Monster
by umbridgesnapecarrow
Summary: "Malfoy, I don't think we're in 1998 anymore..." Time travel fic! Rated M for future language/possible lemons. TOMIONE.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I won nothing.

A/N can be found at the end.

* * *

"Bloody hell, Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed, groaning as the boy in question walked ahead of her. "We have to patrol the hallways _together,_ in case that fact slipped your mind. _Again_."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Please, Granger, I could finish rounds quicker if you would bugger off. More efficiently, too, if I do say so myself."

Hermione had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. "Too bad McGonagall stressed how much of a group effort this is since we're, I don't know, still in a semi-dangerous post-war era?" She walked ahead of Malfoy, eager to end her Head's duties for the night and get away from him.

"Why do you have to bring up that bloody war every chance you get, Granger? It's over. You and every other self-righteous 'war hero' in this bloody castle need to just get over it."

Hermione had to bite her lip to refrain from saying something immature and crude. It has been five and a half months since the second wizarding war ended, and most were still not over it. Hermione couldn't even look at Ron or Ginny without seeing grief over the loss of Fred still lingering in their eyes. Most of the students who fought in the war were just now beginning to move on from that dark part of their lives. Hermione considered herself, Malfoy, and all the other returning "eighth years" lucky to be allowed to finish their final year of schooling, especially since most of them had helped destroy the school during the war. She tried to be thankful, she really did, but Malfoy sometimes made that so very difficult.

"It's not something one can easily 'get over', Malfoy." Hermione said calmly, balling her hands into fists. "Of course, I'm sure it's very easy for you. All you lost was your precious Dark Lord, am I correct?"

Malfoy grabbed Hermione's arm and forced her to turn around, something inside of him "You're not the only one who lost something during the war!" He exploded, anger clouding his stormy gray eyes. "My family basically lost everything, Granger, don't you bloody even _think_ about saying we didn't suffer, too."

Hermione's pity for him almost outweighed her anger. Almost."Whatever, Malfoy!" She said, exasperated, pulling her arm out of his grasp and continued walking down the hall. "We have to finish this floor, and then McGonagall said she wanted us to patrol the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Then we will be done for the night." Malfoy didn't reply.

The two Heads remained quiet as they finished patrolling the first floor, walking towards the front doors of the school. It was quiet outside, the late October night chilly. Hermione subconsciously rubbed her arms for warmth as she and Malfoy walked towards the Forbidden Forest. As they neared the edge, Malfoy spoke up. "Do you see that, Granger?"

Hermione glanced at him. "See what?"

"That," He said again, pointing into the forest, where one could just barely see a faint, blue light. It ebbed on very slowly, as if it were searching for something lurking within the forest.

"Huh," Hermione said quietly, stopping in her tracks. "What do you think it is?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I was hoping you would know." He paused for a moment, and then continued walking right into the forest.

"Malfoy!" Hermione called, running after him. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? You don't know what's in there, we could get -"

"Oi, can it, Granger," Malfoy interrupted her. "I just want to see what it is."

Hermione huffed, but followed him deeper into the forest. "If we get caught inside the forest, Malfoy, and I lose House points or get detention because of you, I swear tp Godric I'll turn you into a bloody ferret and make sure you can never return to your human form."

"Oh, so frightening," Malfoy said sarcastically, not paying any attention to her threats. "Besides, we won't get in trouble. Head Boy and Girl can get away with murder."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't question him. The trees were becoming fewer and far between, the path fading from a smooth, dirt walk into regular, grassy ground. Hermione shivered, glancing over her shoulder. The full moon in the sky illuminated the entire forest, casting shadows on trees and bushes and making the entire thing more frightening. Hermione stayed close to Malfoy, too frightened to turn around and walk back through the forest alone.

"I feel like someone's watching us," She murmured to Malfoy, refusing to turn around when she heard a _crunch_ somewhere behind them.

He nodded slowly. "Probably just one of the creatures that lives here. We're almost there."

Dread spread throughout Hermione's gut. She began walking quicker, eager to reach this light Malfoy seemed to be so infatuated with and return to the safety of the castle. The light got brighter as they neared it, until they were standing nearly right in front of it.

"What is it?" Hermione asked quietly, staring at the light in awe. Draco didn't answer.

The blue light was a sphere almost too bright to look at, making Hermione and Draco squint. Mini flashes of lightning, like sparks of electricity, shot out and around the sphere, and it slowly began spinning towards them. The wind picked up, blowing around Draco and Hermione, causing a roar so loud Hermione was half certain everyone at the castle would be able to hear it. Hermione took a step back as the the sphere got closer to them. She reached out for Malfoy's arm, pulling him back with her. "Malfoy!" She yelled over the roar of the wind. "Malfoy! We need to get out of here! Now!"  
As if coming out of a trance, Malfoy grabbed her arm and turned around, running from the light. Hermione ran as fast as she could, trying to put as much space between herself and the electric light as possible.

She felt a tickling sensation behind her and glanced over her shoulder, and felt her heart sink into her stomach when she saw the light right behind her, the little sparks of electricity moving to wrap around her. "Malfoy!"

Malfoy turned, and suffered the same fate. Little lightning bolts wrapped their way around his body, pulling he and Hermione farther and farther into the depths of the sphere.

That bright blue light was the last thing Hermione saw before everything faded to black.

* * *

"'Mione, dear, Draco! Time to wake up!"

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, squinting in the morning light. She pulled the blankets back, and immediately felt off. She sat up, looking around for her wand, panic rising within her when she couldn't find it. She got out of the bed and looked around the room, and didn't recognize where she was. _Where am I? Where's my wand? Where's Malfoy?_

Hermione walked over to the door and opened it slowly, walking out into the hall. There was one other door in the hall she was in, a silver plaque with "DRACO" written on it in the middle of the door. She opened the other door and quickly closed it behind her, sighing with relief when she saw a familiar pointed face peeking out from beneath the blankets. She walked over to the bed and started shaking him, trying to wake him up. "Malfoy. Malfoy, wake up."

She paused, touching her throat. _Has my voice always been that high? _Hermione shook her head, ignoring it and going back to waking up Malfoy.

Finally, the boy in question groaned, throwing his blankets off and getting out of bed. "Honestly, Granger, if you have nothing better to do than wake me up at the bloody crack of dawn-"

Hermione froze in horror as she looked at the boy standing in front of her. "Malfoy.. is, that you..?"

He scoffed, still not looking at her. "Of course it's me, Granger, who else would it be?"

"Malfoy, I think you need to look in a mirror..."

Hermione could almost hear him roll his eyes. "Why?"

"Trust me, Malfoy."

Something in her voice told Malfoy he needed to do as she said. He moved to the wardrobe in the corner of the room, opening it and staring at the mirror behind the door, and was rendered speechless. He wasn't the eighteen-year-old Malfoy heir anymore. His hair was brown and curly, and he couldn't have been any older than eleven. He most certainly did not look like a Malfoy.

Hermione joined him by the mirror, unsurprised to see that she was younger again, too. They looked the same as they had the first day the met, save for Draco's hair.

A scratching at the window tore their gazes away from the mirror. Hermione opened the window, allowing the owl to drop it's delivery and fly away. Hermione picked it up, eyes wide, and looked back at Malfoy.

"Malfoy..." She said, tossing him the parchment. "I don't think we're in 1998 anymore..."

Malfoy looked at the parchment in his hands, recognizing it as The Daily Prophet. The date in the corner, however, couldn't have been right. It couldn't possibly be...

_July 31, 1938._

* * *

**A/N: Helllllo! :-) So, I've been playing around with the idea of this for a while now, and I finally decided to put it into words, this first chapter is very short compared to how I plan for the other chapters to go. I know what I want to happen with this, but I'm still unsure of how many chapters it will be... and I cannot guarantee quick updates, but I'm going to try to be quick with them.**

**Oh yeah and HI FELLOW TOMIONE SHIPPERS lol sorry I had to. Tomione is honestly my favorite ship. Tom won't appear for a few chapters, but I can guarantee you that in this story _Tomione is endgame_. So don't freak out about the lack of Tom for now! I promise he'll be there once the story gets going!**

**Also if there's anything you think I should change, ass, etc., please let me know! I love constructive criticism. :-)**

**-Kate**


	2. Chapter 2

**hi hi! i am SO SORRY about the wait for this D: i was hoping to have it posted a couple days ago, but life gets in the way, you know how it it. i'm going to try to post updates with how each chapter is coming alone on my tumblr. which will be posted in my bio, if anyone is interested.**

**i also made an 8tracks for this that i think somewhat goes along with the outline i made for this - i say somewhat because some songs remind me of tom, some of hermione, some of tomione, some of the plot, etc etc etc. you get the picture.**

**...i'm rambling. sorry.**

**anywayy, i'm not sure how soon my next update will come - my school's basketball homecoming is this weekend and since i won football homecoming queen i have to crown basketball king and queen, i have a school dance saturday after work, i'm going out of town next tuesday to film something for a tv show... but i'm going to try to have it up as soon as possible.**

**without further adieu... chapter 2!**

**(disclaimer: i do not own harry potter.)**

* * *

"Draco? Hermione? What are you doing?"

Hermione looked up into the face of a woman who somewhat resembled her mother. The woman had dark brown hair, much like her real mother, but appeared to be much younger, and she had steely gray eyes. She smiled at the two lovingly, and Hermione immediately realized this woman was her – rather, her and Malfoy's – mother. She felt a pang of pain in her chest at the thought of her parents, but gently shook it away.

"I was just making sure Draco here was awake... he was making sure I didn't bruise his shoulders from having to shake him so hard."

The woman accepted this answer, laughing softly as she walked into the room. "You kids, I swear. You'd think the two of you would get along better." She stopped beside Draco, ruffling his hair. "Hurry down for breakfast and then get dressed. Your father wants to head into Diagon Alley and get all your school supplies before it gets too crowded."

With one more smile at the two, the woman walked out the room. Hermione waited until she heard the woman descend a flight of stairs before she turned back to Draco, who looked nauseous.

"Was that...?"

"Our mother? I'm assuming." Hermione responded. She sighed. "Okay, first off, we have to act like we don't completely detest each other. So, Malfoy, I suggest we form a truce of some sort."  
"A truce? Are you bloody mad? I hate you and you hate me, Granger, there's no way-"  
"Keep your voice down!" Hermione hissed, looking sharply to the doorway, releasing a sigh of relief when their 'mother' didn't return. "Look, Malfoy, that doesn't matter right now. Right now, we're sixty years behind our own time and we don't have anyone else, so you need to get over it!"

Malfoy didn't protest.

"Truce?" Hermione tried again, a hopeful tone to her voice.

Malfoy eyed her outstretched hand for a moment, glancing up to meet her eyes. Finally, he took her hand, shaking it.

"Truce."

Hermione smiled. "Brilliant. All right, we should start off by calling each other by our first names... Draco."

"Fine... _Hermione_," He sneered, looking away from his new found ally. "Come on, they're waiting on us downstairs."

The trip down to the dining room was a different adventure all together. Down the hall leading from the bedrooms were family portrait after family portrait, the younger versions of Draco and Hermione made the witch and wizard in question nauseous. After what seemed like hours, they finally reached the sitting room, leading off into the kitchen.

"Act natural," Hermione muttered to Draco beneath her breath before they entered the room. When they did, they saw the woman from earlier – _Mum_, Hermione thought grimly – sitting alongside and laughing with a man. He appeared to be very tall, though he was sitting, and had light brown hair, tousled into an impeccable mess. He held the Daily Prophet in front of him, smirking as he picked up his coffee mug. As he put it down, he caught sight of Draco and Hermione.

"Ah, there they are, the newest witch and wizard of the Pope family!" He exclaimed, sitting back and smiling broadly at the two. "Come on, eat up! We've got a long day ahead of us!"

Hermione and Draco both sat down, giving each other a short look.

A House Elf came up behind them, putting a plate of food before each of them before slinking back to the kitchen. Hermione's eyes widened at the amount of food on the plate – eggs, an English muffin, sausage, hashbrowns, and a bowl of berries laid before her. Suddenly feeling like she hadn't eaten in years, Hermione dug in, barely tasting any of the food as she practically inhaled it.

The man – _Father_, Hermione reminded herself – chuckled. "Hermione I don't think I've ever seen you eat so much so quickly!"

Hermione blushed, looking down. "I was really hungry," She said, staring holes into her plate. When she looked back up, the House Elf had returned, and Hermione felt anger rise up inside of her. Of course her family has a House Elf. _They probably have several_, Hermione reminded herself, trying her best to conceal her anger. Promising herself to continue to fight for House Elf rights while in this time period, Hermione calmly turned toward the House Elf, taking the envelope it extended to her. "Thank you."

The House Elf looked up at her. "'S not a problem, missus! Wolly lives to serve young master Draco and missus Hermione!" The Elf turned back to the kitchens, and Hermione felt compassion for the creature fill her heart.

She flipped the envelope over in her hands, running her fingers across the Hogwarts seal. It had already been opened. The front of the letter addressed the letter to _Hermione Pope, Pope Manor, Wiltshire, England. _Realizing that they must be not too far from Malfoy Manor, Hermione turned to Draco, who was expressionless. She looked at her Envelope again, opening it and pulling out the letter.

_Dear Ms. Pope,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31._

_Armando Dippet, Headmaster_

"We owled Dippet the day your letters came in last month, so all we need to do is purchase your materials," Mr, Pope said, standing up from the table. "Go on and get ready, kids, your mother and I want to be in Diagon Alley no later than eleven."

Hermione smiled at him, trying to give off the impression that she belonged here, "Of course, father. Come, Draco."

Draco shot her a dirty look but followed her regardless. Hermione waited until they reached her room and pulled him in."  
"Granger, if this is about how excited you are to repeat all seven years of school, I'm not interested, Draco deadpanned, standing by the door.

Hermione huffed and sat down on her bed. "It's not, though I actually kind of am," She admitted, not meeting his eyes. She finally looked up at Draco, again stunned by how different he looked. "I think that... light thing back in the forest... was meant for someone else. And we ruined their plans."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I think someone wanted to travel back in time to change something, thus damaging the timeline and completely changing the future," she explained, looking out the window by her bed. "I think it has something to do with Voldemort."  
"Granger, in case you forgot, Voldemort is dead. Potter finished him off," Draco reminded her.

"Yes, I know, but in this time period, he's still alive. He's..." hermione froze, a look of horror spreading over her features.

Draco waited a minute, waiting for her to continue. "Hello? Earth to Granger... Granger!"

Hermione looked at Draco, horror still lingering in her eyes. "It's 1938, Draco. Voldemort is eleven. He's going to begin attending Hogwarts this year. We will be going to school with Lord Voldemort."

* * *

Diagon Alley was bustling and busy when they arrived, parents wandering around with their children, holding Hogwarts book and supplies lists in their hands. Mr. and Mrs. Pope – Braxton and Georgia, Draco and Hermione had learned they were named – walked on either side of their children, leading them to Flourish and Blotts. Hermione smiled as they entered the book store, feeling at home as soon as she crossed the threshold. Georgia told the man behind the counter they needed two sets of first year books, and while she was preoccupied, Hermione snuck off, stalking down one of the isles, thoroughly searching the shelves for a book she had yet to read. She felt her heart leap as she found a copy of Hogwarts: a History, grabbing it off the shelf and admiring it. Seeing her favorite magical book reminded her of home, and made her feel more comfortable in this foreign world, she clutched the book to her chest as Braxton called her name, telling her she could only buy one extra book. Smiling down at the book again, she walked back to the front of the store, feeling lighter than she had in a while.

She didn't even notice the pair of dark blue eyes watching her from behind the shelves.

000000000000000

The Pope's continued their shopping, finally purchasing every item needed for family, quite famished from walking so much, sat down in the Leaky Cauldron for a late lunch, taking a table close to the back of the pub. Draco looked around the pub with slight interest; He'd never spent much time here in the original timeline; his parents thought it was too common of a place to visit. He scanned the pub slowly, taking in all the new sights and the sounds of the people, wondering if he knew any of their descendants. He was looking at a woman he believed to be a member of the Nott family when a head of white blonde hair nearly made his heart stop beating.

He had just seen the Malfoys.

Hermione felt Draco tense beside her and turned to him, closing her book. "Draco?" She asked softly. "Draco? Draco, what's wrong?" She followed his line of sight, spotting the Notorious Malfoy family. "Draco, don't look at them. Don't bring attention to yourself, if they realize you look anything like them at all it could damage the timeline," Hermione whispered quickly into his ear, glancing between him and the Malfoy family, but it was too late to hide.

"Well, if it isn't the Pope family! I hope you're well, Braxon?: The father – Hermione couldn't remember his name – said as he approached their table. He looked so much like Lucius Malfoy it was alarming, with the same pale, pointed face and white blonde hair all Malfoy's seemed to possess. She turned to his son, and she felt Draco tense again. Abraxas Malfoy, his grandfather, she realized, was the child.

"Quite well, and you, Malfoy?" Braxton asked, a friendly smile spreading across his face.

"Couldn't be better! Just here to collect the items Abraxas will need for this term," the older Malfoy explained. He turned his gaze to Draco and Hermione. "I assume you're doing the same with Draco and Hermione here?"

Braxton nodded again. "Just finished, actually. We all were a bit hungry and sat down for a bit to eat."

Malfoy nodded, looking from Braxton to his own son. "I do hope Abraxas is sorted into Slytherin upon his arrival at Hogwarts," he said, seemingly to himself.

"I couldn't agree more! I do hope Draco and Hermione are sorted into Slytherin," Georgia said, smiling at her two children. "Though I suppose Ravenclaw would be a nice second choice as well."

Hermione smiled, but felt wounded. She was a Gryffindor by nature, it was in her blood. How on earth would she be able to survive in a house full of snakes?"

Draco scoffed. "I can't really imagine being in a house other than Slytherin." He turned to Hermione, his trademark smirk in place. "Don't you agree, Hermione?"

Hermione felt the three adults, along with Draco and Abraxas, staring at her. They had all been Slytherins, even her own parents, who seemed as un-Slytherin-ish as can be. She slowly smiled back at Draco, apologizing to herself before she spoke.

"I couldn't possibly agree more."

* * *

**September 1, 1938**

The month of August dragged on, September first coming after what seemed like a year of waiting. Draco looked up at the Hogwarts Express, which hadn't changed at all from this time period to his own. Seeing the other children bid goodbye to their parents made him long to see him mother and even his father again. Georgia placed her hand on his shoulder, and he glanced up to her, nearly cringing at the tears welled in her eyes. She was a wonderful parent, but she wasn't his mother. She could never be his mother, who he cared for and missed so immensely.

He understood he wasn't a good person and that he had many mistakes, but his mother made him feel okay about it. Like he was less than a monster.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Georgia whispered to him bending down to his eye level and enveloping him in a hug. "Please try to open up more, Draco, and be nice to the other children. Look after Hermione – just because she's older doesn't mean she's still not your sister, okay?" She squeezed him tighter, and eventually, he hugged her back.

"I will, mum. I'll owl you this weekend," He promised the woman, who was nearing hysterical.

"Let him off, Georgia, Hermione will be looking for him," Braxton told his wife, rolling his eyes at how worked up she was getting. "Don't cause any trouble, Draco. We'll await your owl," Braxton said, giving Draco a small smile. Draco nodded, and shook Braxton's outstretched hand before grabbing his trunk and clambering onto the train. Hermione had said to meet her in one of the last compartments, presumably to discuss what they would need to do while at Hogwarts in this time period. He weaved in and out of thongs of other students, narrowly running into a couple of them, before he reached the compartment Hermione chose. She sat alone, reading Hogwarts, a History, for possibly the seventh time that month. Draco pushed the door open and walked in, sitting across from her. She didn't look up.

"Georgia is so emotional," Draco complained, slumping in his seat.

"Well, she is seeing her only two children off to school at the same time. She probably won't have much to do since we won't be home," Hermione commented, closing her book and meeting Draco's gaze. She looked unsure and worried, and though she tried to mask it as well as she could, Draco knew her too well to believe it.

"So... what are we going to do?"

"Well, I've already told you my theory," Hermione began, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm not quite sure who it is, or what their intentions here are, but I'm nearly certain it's someone wishing to bring Voldemort-"

"Don't say the name, Granger!" Draco interrupted, a look of fear masking his face. "If we said _that word_ around _him_ after he decides upon it, he'll know we aren't who we say we are!"

Hermione nodded, looking away from Draco and peering out the window as the train took off. "Anyway. I'm almost positive it's someone trying to help... You-Know-Who," she said, lowering her voice. "We need to keep a lookout for anyone suspicious looking, or someone we think isn't from this time. The sooner we find out what's actually going on, the sooner we'll likely return to our own time."

Draco didn't comment, keeping his arms crossed tightly across his chest while inspecting a loose thread on his sweater. "What are we going to do about being within such close proximity to... You-Know-Who?"

Though she knew it was coming, Hermione had hoped to figure that out later. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that she might vomit upon seeing the young Dark Lord. Memories of the war flashed through her mind, her stomach churning at the though of having to possibly interact with Lord Voldemort.

"We can't let him know we despise him." She began softly. "We can't let him figure out that we know anything about him. We're most likely going to be in the same House as him, so it's not like it'll be easy to ignore him." She paused, letting the fact that she will be in a house of snakes sink in. She met Draco's eyes, sighing. "We might even have to consider befriending him."

Draco barked out a laugh, shaking his head and standing up. "If you think that I'll even consider befriending the Dark Lord you're bloody well insane, Granger."

Hermione sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "You think I'm a fan of this? He ruined the past seven years of my life, Malfoy. I'll have my blood status engraved into my arm for the rest of my life because of him!" She pulled up her arm, intending on shoving the scarred 'mudblood' in his face, but looked at her own arm, shocked.

"It's gone," she said softly, touching her forearm. She could still feel the tissue there, slightly raised and sore, but it was invisible to the eye.

"Maybe it's gone because you're not a mud- muggle born in this time period," Malfoy commented after a brief period of silence.

"I can still feel it, though, Hermione said softly. After another moment, she rolled the sleeve down, taking her place back by the window, staring out at the countryside speeding by. She remained quiet, and Draco, feeling slightly awkward, took his seat again. Neither of the time travelers spoke for the entire trip to Hogwarts.

* * *

A young boy stepped inside the Great Hall of Hogwarts surrounded by the other first year students, taking in the enchanted scenery. Four long tables spread from one end of the hall to another, with the staff table horizontally along the far end. The chatter that filled the hall ended as the first years stepped in, following a professor to the front. The boy smirked at the expense of the other students, who seemed far too interested in something as little as a sorting ceremony.

He had to admit, he was a bit impressed at the talking hat, The Sorting Hat he recalled, as it recited it's poem. He didn't find a need to listen to it, though. He knew which House he preferred to be in.

The Sorting began with Angley, Lewis, who was sorted into Ravenclaw, followed by Avery, Brenden, who was sorted into Slytherin. The young boy watched as the Slytherin table cheered for the Avery boy, keeping track of the students sorted into the House that would hopefully become his own.

Black, Alphard was the next to become a Slytherin, followed by Lestrange, John Paul, and a few others. The P's rolled along, and the boy waited for his name to be called.

A Pope, Draco was sorted into Slytherin after the hat just barely touched his head. Called after him was Pope, Hermione, and the boy immediately recognized her. He had seen her in the bookstore in Diagon Alley. He had been hiding between the shelves, looking through all the books he possibly could, when he heard her coming. He had never seen anyone his age look at books the way she did.

He stared at her as the hat was placed upon her head, and he didn't miss the fear flashing in her eyes. The hat took almost a full minute before shouting "SLYTHERIN" for the whole hall to hear.

He followed Hermione Pope to the Slytherin table with his eyes and watched as she took a seat by the boy called before her, who appeared to be her brother. He was so busy looking at her that he almost didn't hear his own name being called.

"Riddle, Tom."

He made his way through the crowd of first years, having the decency to look as nervous as the rest of them. He gingerly sat on the stool, the hat falling over his eyes as it was placed on his head.

"_Hm... quite a thinker, you are,"_ An old, raspy voice spoke to him._ "Quite intelligent, you are, and quick with wit, too! But dear old Ravenclaw doesn't seem the fit for you..."_

"Hardly," Tom thought to himself, and was slightly surprised when the Hat chucked.

"_Cannot disagree. You're quite the ambitious one, aren't you? Know what you want and how to get it, seems. You've no idea whose blood you got running through your veins..."_  
The hat was quiet for a moment before shouting, _"SLYTHERIN!"_

Removing the hat with a smirk on his face, Tom Riddle made his way to the Slytherin table, never taking his eyes off of Hermione Pope.

* * *

**please let me know what you think! constructive criticism, comments, opinions, etc are all welcome. :-)**


	3. Chapter 3

**helllllllo! i'm really happy because i got this posted before i thought i would. i was supposed to go out of town to shoot something for a tv show yesterday, but it got cancelled, then we had a winter storm coming so school let out at noon yesterday, and then there was no school today. so yay! but this chapter is kind of short, sorry :/**

**disclaimer: i own nothing.**

* * *

Draco wasn't aware if Hermione saw the way that Tom Riddle stared at her that first night. If she was, she ignored it, so Draco decided it would be safe to not bring it up.

He was laying in his emerald four-poster in the Slytherin first year boy's dormitory, flipping through a book he dug out of his trunk. Much to his dismay, he couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't sure if he was nervous about sharing a room with a young Lord Voldemort, or pissed about having to repeat seven years of schooling again. Some part of him knew it was both, though he wouldn't really admit to it aloud.

He sighed softly, looking up from his book, eyes tired. Lord Voldemort – or, as he should say, Tom Riddle – occupied the bed to the left of his own. Thankfully, the boy was sleeping, and couldn't feel Draco's eyes trained on him, burning holes through his skin. Draco felt a strong wave of hatred wash over him for someone he technically didn't know. The thought of what the seemingly innocent boy would become over the next fifty years was enough to make bile rise in his throat.

He sighed, closing his book and shoving it back into his trunk. It was weird, sharing a dorm with people he would know in the future. Especially his own grandfather, Abraxas, who was snoring on the other side of the dormitory. Moving quietly to the door and checking over his shoulder to make sure he didn't wake anyone up, Draco gently slid out, and made his way to the common room. Much to his surprise, Hermione was there, sitting on a couch nearest to the fire.

He sat down without saying anything, and for a moment he was unsure if Hermione even knew he was in the room. She stared into the fire, eyes glazed over.

Suddenly, she sighed, moving her eyes from the fire to stare at him. "Can't sleep?"

Draco nodded, looking over to the fire.

"I still can't get over the fact that I'm in Slytherin. Me, the brightest witch of my generation, Harry Potter's best friend, in Slytherin!" She slowly shook her head, watching the flames dance inside the fireplace.

"It's not that bad, you know," Draco said, running a hand through his hair, almost annoyed when the curly brown mess flopped over his eyes.  
"How?" Hermione asked, disbelieving.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. It's just not as bad as you think. You'll get used to it."

Hermione didn't say anything. The two stayed there, staring into the flames, until neither could keep their eyes open any longer.

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Hermione sat down by Draco in Potions the next day, pulling out her book and a piece of parchment. She might have been thrown back in time with who was technically one of her enemies, and she might have to face the young Dark Lord, but at least she still had her schooling to distract her from of that.

Professor Slughorn was already in the room, his chalk charmed to write a few notes on a board behind him. Hermione immediately began writing it all down, her quill moving quickly across the parchment.

She heard Draco sigh beside her. "Must you always be so eager to learn, Granger?" He muttered to her, placing his book on his desk. Hermione rolled her eyes, but chose not to answer. Professor Slughorn cleared his voice from the front of the room, and all the first years looked up.

"Good morning!" Slughorn said, his voice just as cheerful as Hermione remembered. "Welcome to your first year of Potions. I am Professor Slughorn, those of you in Slytherin may already know me as your head of house, and I will be teaching you Potions during your time here at Hogwarts." He smiled brightly at the crowd of students, grabbing a piece of parchment off of his desk. "Now, I've already assigned you all partners," He said, charming the piece of parchment so it was as big as the board. "Find your name and seat on the chart and quickly sit down!"

Hermione looked up at the chart, scanning for her name. Finally, she found it, seated in the far right hand corner in the back of the room. She felt her heart sink into her stomach when she saw the name of her partner: RIDDLE, TOM.

She looked at Draco, who gave her a pitiful look, before she grabbed her belongings and made her way to the back of the room. Riddle was already there, sitting down, watching her approach.

"Hello," She said politely, setting her stuff down on the desk. She wanted to turn around and run and scream, and standing so close to him made her feel faint and sick, but she remained calm. "I don't believe we've met; I'm Hermione Pope."

Riddle didn't say anything, but continued looking at her, a curious glint in his eyes. "Is Draco Pope your twin?"

"We're not twins; I was born in September one year and he was born in June the next year. Our parents wanted us to be very close in age."  
Riddle nodded, but didn't say anything. Feeling extremely uncomfortable and awkward, Hermione sat down in her seat and situated her books and parchment on her desk.

Slughorn began lecturing, and Hermione went back to her notes, writing as much information as he possibly could. She was in the middle of copying down notes on how potion ingredients are picked when Riddle leaned over to her, whispering in her ear, "Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Tom. Tom Riddle."

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September 19, 1938

September seemed to go by rather quickly. Hermione tried her best to get along with Draco and she also tried to avoid Tom as much as possible, which turned out to be difficult, because he was literally everywhere. In the common room, right next to her in Potions, sitting not too far away in the rest of her classes, in the library... she could not escape Tom Riddle.

She laid in her bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. It was September 19; her birthday. She was now technically only twelve, though she turned nineteen what was supposed to be a couple months ago. She felt a twisting in her stomach, thinking back to her past few birthdays. This will be the first once she's spent without Harry and Ron since her original twelfth birthday. She sighed, sitting up and making her way to the bathroom. She couldn't just lay in bed all day, after all. _Attending class is much more important than dwelling on the past, _Hermione reminded herself, brushing her teeth vigorously. She spit her tooth paste into the sink and wiped her mouth off, staring at her reflection. She hadn't noticed her eyes had changed to match Draco's until about a week ago, and now seeing herself with grey eyes made her realize how much she actually loved her brown eyes. They were plain, sure, but they were normal. Having Draco Malfoy's grey eyes was not normal. Being in this time period was not normal. She missed normal.

She slowly walked into her dormitory and walked back towards her bed. Her roommates were just waking up, groggily getting out of bed. Hermione hurried and dressed – she had yet to actually have a conversation with any of her roommates, much like during her original first year. She felt slightly odd at not having any friends, again. Well, she had Draco, but that didn't really count, did it? He was supposed to be her brother, sure, but were they actually... friends?

Hermione shook her head. _No_, she told herself, situating her bag around her shoulder. She had Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology this morning, and even though she had sat through the same exact lessons already, she loved hearing them taught by different Professors. It's fascinating to see how a Professor, who has been teaching the subject for years and years, still gets excited and passionate about teaching it over and over. At least, Hermione found it fascinating.

She hurried to the Great Hall, where Draco was already sitting with a few boys he shared his dorm with. Hermione sat down to his right, grabbing a piece of toast and buttering it.

Draco slightly turned to her, giving her a small smile. He was getting good at this "pretend we're siblings" thing. "Happy birthday, 'Mione."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, but she quickly composed herself. Draco knew it was her birthday?

She smiled. "Thank you."  
"Would have never guessed she was older than you, Pope!" One of his roommates said. Hermione looked at the boy who spoke, and felt her heart swell at his resemblance to Sirius. He could have been him, he looked so much like him.

Draco smiled, but said nothing to the boy. "Hermione, this is Alphard Black," He said, nodding towards him. "And that's Dominic Rosier. You already know Abraxas Malfoy,"

Hermione smiled at the three boys. "Hello, nice to meet you," She said to Black and Rosier. She felt her stomach flip again as she realized Rosier was another future Death Eater, mentally making a list of all of them she'd met so far.

"So Hermione, seems like someone's got their eye on you," Abraxas Malfoy's voice came from the otherside of Draco. Hermione leaned forward so she could see him, brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

Malfoy, Rosier and Black all started laughing. "Don't tell me you haven't seen the way Riddle's always staring at you!"

Hermione felt her stomach flip again and shared a quick look with Draco before turning back to the other Slytherins, a passive mask sliding over her face. "Tom Riddle does not stare at me."  
"Yes he does!" Rosier jeered, laughing loudly. "You should've seen him in the common room last night! You'd of thought you'd grown a second head!"

Hermione felt her cheeks grow pink as the boys laughed at Riddle's expense. Sure, he had grown into a monster, but he hadn't done anything yet. He didn't even talk to anyone. "And what is so humorous about this, again?"  
"It's funny because Riddle's a freak," Malfoy said, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth, reminding Hermione vaguely of Ron. "He never talks except to answer questions in class. He reads a lot. He doesn't have any friends. I bet he's not even a pureblood."

Though Hermione knew this was true, she felt the need to protect him. She caught Draco's eye out of her peripheral vision, hoping he wouldn't correct what she was about to say. "He's obviously a pureblood; if he wasn't, he wouldn't be in Slytherin," She said to the boys, gathering her stuff together. "Just because you've deemed him a freak doesn't mean he's automatically a half-blood or a muggleborn." She glanced towards the door and found the boy they were discussing walk in, taking a seat by himself at the end of the table. Deciding to spite Draco and his friends, she decided to sit with him. She smirked at the four as she stood up. "If you'd excuse me, I have someone to speak to."

She didn't realize how entirely foolish her plan was until she reached the end of the table and stood across from Tom, who was reading a book. It took a moment before he looked up and met her gaze. If he was shocked, Hermione couldn't tell; he was already a master at masking his emotions. She smiled cheerfully at him, hiking her bag farther up on her shoulder. "Hello, do you mind if I sit with you?"

Riddle was quiet for a moment, and Hermione was half sure he was going to tell her to leave him alone.

"Go ahead," he said, his voice soft and raspy, still half asleep.

Hermione couldn't help the look of shock that came across her face as she sat down, dropping her bag to the floor. Riddle was quiet, and Hermione was almost sure that he wouldn't speak to her again when his voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"They don't like me much, do they."

Hermione glanced up, and didn't need to follow Riddle's line of sight to know who he was talking about. She could still faintly hear Draco and his friends laughing.

"They're irrelevant," She said, slightly shrinking back when Riddle met her eyes. His own were dark blue and cold, like the Arctic Ocean. She felt like she could drown in them.

"They think I'm a freak."

Hermione shrugged. "They think you're a freak because you read a lot and because you don't seem to have any friends. But that makes me a freak, too. I adore reading, and I don't have any friends. Unless you count Draco, which I don't, since he's my brother." Hermione forced herself to shut up, knowing she was saying too much.

Before Riddle could reply, the mail came in, owls dropping low over the tables to deliver letters, the Daily Prophet, and packages. The Pope family owl swooped down in front of Hermione, dropping a package in front of her. A letter was attached to the package.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_Happy birthday, Darling! So hard to believe our little girl is already 12 years old... you'll be all grown up before you know it! We've sent you several books – we know how keen you are on reading, darling, so we know the books will go to good use. Have a fabulous birthday, and give your brother our love._

_Love you,_

_Mum and Dad x_

Hermione read the letter twice, sighing. She didn't notice Tom looking at the package, curiously. "What's that for?" He asked, eyes sliding from the package to her face.

"Oh, it's just some books my parents sent me. For my birthday."  
"It's your birthday?" Tom asked, looking back to the books.

"Yes." Hermione responded. "Would you like to accompany me back to the common room? I'd like to put these away before class starts."  
Tom looked at her, curiosity still lingering in his eyes. Finally, he muttered a 'sure', standing up and walking alongside her to the doors of the Great Hall. Hermione could feel Draco's eyes burning into her back, and for once, she did not care.

0000000000000000

Hermione's birthday passed rather quickly, and before she knew it, dinner was over and she was heading to the library to finish some homework. Granted, it wasn't due for another two days, but she wanted to sty on top of things.

She situated herself at a table in the far corner, opening her Defense Against the Dark Arts book to finish writing her essay on curses and their effects when used properly. She sighed contently whilst writing, feeling the smallest sliver of normality available to her here. She smiled down at her parchment as she finished her essay, running it up and carefully putting it away. She put her Defense book back into her bag and began digging around for another book when she saw a pair of feet stop beside her desk. She slowly looked up to none other than Tom Riddle.

"Hello," she said politely, sitting up. Riddle didn't say anything. She cocked her head slightly, staring at him. Was he going to say anything?

"Riddle, if you're not-"

"Don't call me that."  
Hermione felt her confusion grow. "Pardon?"  
"Don't call me that. Riddle. My name is Tom. You know that."  
"Okay... Tom." Hermione suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Tom sneered. "No, there isn't something you can help me with. Silly girl."

Hermione could see him true personality coming up, and stood up to leave. "All right then... I'll just go." She had turned around when his hand wrapped around her wrist, his hand cool and smooth against her own.

"I'm sorry," He said, turning Hermione to face him. "I'm not very good at these kinds of things."  
"What kinds of things?" Hermione ased. She didn't understand.

"Do you remember what you said at breakfast this morning, about how is reading and having no friends made me a freak then it made you a freak, too?"  
"Yes," Hermione said slowly, studying him. She was almost certain he was manipulating her. After all, this _is_ Tom Marvolo Riddle we're talking about.

"Well, I was wondering. Since you don't have any friends, and I don't have any friends, if you'd like to... _be _friends. With me."

Hermione stared at him. She was Hermione Jean Granger, proud muggleborn witch, who had the word mudblood carved into her arm, and was the best friend of the boy who would eventually kill the child before her. How could he possibly be friends with her? _Of course, he doesn't know any of that,_ Hermione reminded herself. _He thinks I'm hermione Pope, pureblood witch, member of the noble Pope family. _She mused this over and her head, trying to make a decision. It would be insane – completely mental – for her to become friends of any sort with Tom Riddle. She knew what he would one day become, how absolutely psychotic and dangerous he would be. She would possibly be risking her own safety by becoming friends with him.

But, on the other hand, she could use this to her advantage. She could destroy his horocrux's immediately after he made them. Or, better yet, she could prevent him form ever making them! She could prevent Myrtle's death, keep Lily and James alive... Lily and James... her heart swelled at the thought of Harry growing up with his actual family instead of those dreadful Dursley's, of Sirius and Remus and everyone else who had died at Voldemort's hands living once more. It would tamper with the timeline, but the theories about it couldn't be true, could it? It wouldn't destroy the fabric of time, would it? Wouldn't it just create a new timeline?

Decision made, Hermione met Tom's eyes and gave him her most sincere smile. "Okay, Tom. We can be friends."

0000000000000000

Hermione returned to her room late that night, exhausted, nearly falling over the threshold into the first years girls dorm. After she and Tom had agreed to be friends, he returned to the common room and she remained in the library until nearly curfew. After checking to make sure she hadn't woke anyone up, she quickly dressed into her pajamas. She was about to crawl into bed when she saw it.

'It' was a very small package on her pillow, with a little tag hanging off of the side. Hermione slowly picked up the little box, inspecting it. She was positive none of the girls knew her birthday was today, who could the little package possibly be from?

With nimble fingers, she gently grabbed the card, reading the neatly scribed message several times. _To my new friend. Happy birthday. -Tom._

But how did he get inside the girls dorm? Hermione momentarily pushed that thought to the back of her mind, slowly unwrapping the small box. She didn't know what to expect as the small box slid into her palm. She eyed it for a moment, shaking it as well, before pulling the lid off.

Inside the box, wrapped in a small piece of cloth, was a ring. The band was silver, and an onyx stone sat in it's center. Hermione stared at the ring. It was beautiful, of course, but where had Tom gotten it? Was it safe?

Hermione clutched the ring in her palm for a few minutes, and when she didn't feel any magic coming off of it, she deemed it safe enough to wear. She slowly slid the ring onto her ring finger; a perfect fit. She continued staring at the ring, thinking of all the possible reasons Tom Riddle would have given her a ring. Hermione finally shrugged it off as she drifted off into a deep sleep.

Hermione did not know Tom Riddle as well as she thought she did, however, and had no idea how possessive the boy could be. Whether she knew it, and whether she liked it, she was now his. And he did not take kindly to sharing.

* * *

**make sure you review and let me know what you think!**

**also, i will be posting updates for this on my tumblr, which can be found on my page. i hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**SECOND UPDATE IN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS? WHAT IS THIS SORCERY?**

**haha hellllo! i didn't go to school today so i managed to finish this chapter! :-) oh yeah, this chapter contains spoilers for the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald, so if you're planning on reading the great gatsby any time soon... sorry.**

**disclaimer: i own nothing.**

* * *

**October 1, 1938, Slytherin Common Room**

Draco sat in the common room with Black and Rosier, half listening to their conversation and half paying attention to his potions essay. It was a Saturday, and most of the other students were outside enjoying the weekend before the weather got too cold. He honestly thought this was a bad decision, on everyone else's part. _Oh well,_ he thought to himself. _Not my fault that they all will be scrambling to finish their assignments at the last minute._ As he thought this, he realized how much he sounded like Hermione. They had weekly meetings to discuss any progress she's found on their situation, and afterward they sometimes found themselves studying or doing homework together. Her school habits had worn off on him.

Speaking of Hermione, where was she? Draco looked up and scanned the common room, but she was nowhere to be found. He saw Lorna Parkinson exit the girls dormitory, and immediately wondered if Hermione was in her room. "Hey, Lorna!" He called her over.

Lorna raised her eyebrows, walking towards Draco and his friends. "Yes, Draco?"

"Hermione isn't in her room, is she?"

Lorna shook her head. "No, I haven't seen her since last night. She came back to the room fairly late, I daresay it was nearing curfew when she finally got back."

Draco's eyebrows shot up beneath his bangs, which he had given up on pushing out of his face, as they always flopped down. "All right. Thanks, Lorna."

"I'll let her know you're looking for her if I see her!" Lorna said, winking at Draco before turning around and exiting the room. Draco felt sick. Anyone related to Pansy Parkinson was enough to make him feel like vomiting, but Hermione missing on top of that made him feel like he actually might regurgitate his breakfast everywhere.

"Rosier here reckons she's off with Riddle," Black's voice interrupted Draco's thoughts. He looked over at the other two boys; Black looked apprehensive, while Rosier smirked. Draco narrowed his eyes at the two, sitting up straighter.

"And what makes you say that, Rosier?"

Rosier barked out a laugh. "They're together all the bloody time, haven't you noticed?"

Draco reflected back on the past couple of weeks. Hermione had seemed to form some sort of friendship with Tom Riddle. She never said a word of it during their meetings, so he chose not to bring it up. She knew what she was doing, didn't she? Then again, she didn't exactly have the best judgment when it came to picking friends. She had, after all, picked The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Bloody-Die and Weasel King to be her friends.

"Hermione and Riddle sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Draco glared at Rosier, who seemed to be having the time of his life making jokes about Hermione's 'relationship'. Draco had quickly come to realize he didn't like the boy much. He preferred Black, who wasn't outspoken and rude, much like Rosier was. The two were quickly becoming good friends – though Hermione had told him it would be best to not become too good of friends with anyone in this era. Then again, if she was off making friends with Tom bloody Riddle of all people, why couldn't he make a friend or two as well?

"Watch your mouth, Rosier." Draco turned away from the boy, who was about to fall off the couch from laughing so hard, and tried to concentrate on his assignment, mentally cursing himself. He'd grown protective over Hermione in their short time here – not that she knew, thank Salazar. Anytime he did something somewhat protective, she assumed he was acting to keep up the brother/sister act. He damned whatever sort of magic that sent them here for ever make him even consider caring about Hermione mudblood-extraordinaire Granger. As odd as he felt admitting it, she reminded him too much of his mother to not feel protective over her.

"Pay no attention to him, he's been like that since he came into the world," Black said to Draco, leaning over so he could be heard over Rosier's obnoxious laughter.

Draco snickered. "I wouldn't doubt that."  
Black was quiet for a short moment before hesitantly speaking again. "But... doesn't it worry you a bit, though? How your sister is so close to Tom Riddle?"

Draco sighed. The way he saw it, now that he thought about it, Hermione being acquaintances with Riddle couldn't be_ too_ bad – maybe he would confide in her about the Chamber when he first opens it, or about his horocrux's when he makes them. They could surely use this to their own advantage, couldn't they?

He shrugged. "Not really."

Black didn't bother masking his shocked look. "Really?"

Draco nodded. "Really. She's a big girl, she's capable of deciding who she should and shouldn't associate herself with."

Rosier sniggered, having mostly composed himself. "How long d'ya reckon before Hermione lets Riddle bed her?"

Draco's anger flared as he nearly snapped his neck to regard Rosier, fire in his eyes. "Why don't you learn your bloody place and keep both my sister and Riddle out of your mouth, yeah?"

Rosier looked frightened for a moment, but smirked to cover it up. "Stop being such a girl, Pope, jeez."

"No, Rosier, you stop being such a bloody arsehole."

Rosier didn't say another work and looked away from Draco. Satisfied that he seemed to get his point across, he turned back to his assignment yet again, smirking when he heard Black's muffled laughter at the exchange.

He lacked the motivation he previously had to finish his assignment, sighing as he rolled up his parchment and took his things back to his room. Vowing to finish it the next morning, he grabbed his wand and exited the Slytherin dorms and common room. He needed to find Hermione.

He set off through the castle, first checking the Great Hall, where he knew she sometimes fled to in order to do homework. He furrowed his brow when he didn't see her anywhere in the school, not even the library. There wasn't a single room in this school that he hadn't checked and yet she was nowhere to be found He'd even checked the blood-

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, realization dawning on him. There was one room he hadn't checked.

The Room of Requirement.

* * *

**The Room of Requirement**

In the almost two weeks since Hermione had agreed to be friends with Tom Riddle, she had grown to begin to enjoy the boy's company. She was careful, though. She knew that he was still Lord Voldemort in the making and that he could be quite manipulative. But other than that night in the library when he had jeered at her, he was as polite as a person could be. He opened the doors for her when they walked to class together and shared private looks with her when someone said something ignorant in class. They had even taking to sneaking off to practice magic or do assignments together, as they were now. As soon as Hermione brought Tom to the Room of Requirement the first time, he declared it their spot, and they began returning to it frequently.

That's where Hermione currently found herself, curled up in a chair, a book in her hands. Tom wasn't in a good mood today –_ Shocker, really,_ Hermione bitterly thought to herself – so she decided to ignore him and read a book. To her surprise, her parents had sent her several muggle books for her birthday. Where they got them, she had no idea – but she was ever so thankful. As much as she loved wizarding books, she missed classic muggle literature.

She gingerly turned the pages of Fitzgerald's _The Great Gatsby_, chastising Daisy as she read. As many times as she read the book, she could never get over how ignorant and shallow the female character was. She shook her head at Daisy as she read, sighing softly.

"What?" Tom's smooth voice sounded, catching her attention.

She looked up at Tom and felt her heart skip a beat, as it sometimes did when she looked at him. Of course he was attractive, she just sometimes realized it more than she did others. At this moment, he had a piece of parchment laying over a page in a textbook as he read the other page, quill perched just above the parchment as if he were about to scribble down more notes. Seeing him in his natural element, so dedicated to his schoolwork, made Hermione realize yet again just how attractive he is and would grow to be for the next couple of decades or so. _How can a monster be so attractive?_ She thought to herself, quickly shaking these thoughts out of her head. She knew he wasn't a legilimens yet, but she didn't want to risk the possibility of her thoughts appearing across her face.

"Nothing, just this book," she replied, dropping his gaze and going back to her novel.

It was quiet for several moments before Tom spoke again. "What book is it?"

"_The Great Gatsby_ by F. Scott Fitzgerald," She replied, not looking up this time.

"I've heard of that. They have it in the library at the orphanage, but they save those books for the older kids. Mrs. Cole won't let me read it until I'm fourteen."  
Hermione was shocked, as she had been the first time, to hear Tom talk to her about the orphanage. This was only the second time he'd brought it up. Last week, when Hermione said something about her parents being smothering, Tom told her he simply did not have parents and lived in an orphanage for all of his life. She wasn't sure if he was telling her this because he actually trusted her, or because he wanted a way to earn her pity and admitting to being an orphan was his way of doing it.

"It's a good read, but some of the characters are so... irritating," She said looking up at him.

He cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"

Hermione felt her face begin to flush, as it usually did when she talked about books she was passionate about. "Well, Daisy. Gatsby – the character the novel is named for – has been in love with her for half his life. And she's in an extremely unhappy marriage with Tom Buchanan, who is cheating on her with Myrtle, and – and Gatsby is obviously the best choice for her! She's the only person he's been honest with his whole life, other than the narrator, Nick, and they were in love before he went off to war and she completely gave herself to him! And she has this choice between him and Tom, and she accidentally kills Myrtle, and she betrays Gatsby, and – and –"

She looked up at Tom, who was slightly amused. He motioned for her to continue. "Go on, go on."

Hermione flushed in embarrassment. She musn't let herself get so riled up when speaking about books. Especially muggle books – she was, after all, supposed to be a pureblood.

"Well, it's just, Gatsby truly loves her. He even took the blame for killing a woman for her. Tom wouldn't have done that. Tom was more upset about Myrtle, his _mistress,_ dying instead of the possibility of Daisy, his _wife,_ leaving him for another man. Sure, he was upset by it, but he was undoubtedly more upset about Myrtle."

Tom stared at her for a moment. "Why are you so passionate about this?"

Hermione faltered. Why _was_ she so passionate about this? Why did Daisy's decision to stay with Tom instead of leaving with Jay Gatsby, the true love of her life, upset her so?

"Well," Hermione began, searching for the right words. "Daisy chose to be with a man who doesn't love her, when she had the possibility of being with her true love. She chose a life without love. What's the point of life with no love?"

When Tom didn't comment, Hermione went on.

"It's mad, really. Why would someone ever choose to be with someone who doesn't love them when they know things could be different?"

"Are you obsessed with the idea of love?"

Hermione almost dropped her book she was so shocked. Out of all the things Tom Marvolo Riddle could possibly say to her, that was one she wasn't expecting. "Pardon?"

"I said," Tom began, obviously somewhat annoyed at having to repeat himself, "are you obsessed with the idea of love?"

Hermione mentally kicked herself. She didn't know how to respond, and that was a first. Hermione Jean Granger always knew what to say, no matter what she was asked. _But I'm not Hermione Granger anymore, _she reminded herself._ I'm Hermione Pope._

She thought back to her fourth year when she had a brief fling with Viktor Krum. She still isn't sure what attracted Viktor to her, but at time, she hadn't cared. She was excited to have captured someones attention for once, to be seen as attractive and intriguing. She knew she hadn't loved Viktor, though. He certainly hadn't loved her, either, now that she thought of it.

The only other guy she had ever had feelings for was Ron. Her heart ached at the thought of him, but not because she was romantically interested in him. She had thought she loved Ron back in her original sixth year, and for a while after the war, she was sure he loved her, too. But he had broken up with her as he and Harry left for Auror training right before she started school, and to be honest, she was kind of glad. She just could not see a future with Ron, no matter how hard she tried.

With a start, she realized that no one had ever loved her. Sure, her parents did, but that didn't count. No one had ever loved her with their entire heart, dreamt of her at night, or felt their heart skip a beat as she entered the room. No one had ever thought about kissing her or asking her to be theirs. Maybe she was obsessed with the idea of love, because she had never truly felt it.

"No," she lied to Tom, averting his gaze. "I just feel like Daisy made the wrong choice."  
"You're lying. Why are you lying?" He sounded angry. His emotions were a constant hot and cold thing. One moment he was amused, the next intrigued, and now he's angry.

_Bloody great. _"I've read about it a lot. It's normal to be curious about it."

"There's a difference between curiosity and obsession, Hermione," Tom said, shaking his head at her as he turned back to his textbook. "Besides, love is a game for fools, anyway."  
Hermione's head shot up. Who did Tom Riddle think _he_ was, telling her about love? She had already felt some sort of love for more people in her short life than he would in his entire lifetime.

"And what makes you think you know so much about love?" She asked him. As soon as the words left her mouth, she immediately regretted them, because Tom's eyes were sad for a moment before turning into dark blue ice. He was angry. Now she'd done it.

"Tom, I – I didn't mean –"

"Save your breath. Yes you did." He threw his stuff down, standing up and moving to look out the window that overlooked the grounds. How dare she! How dare she say that to him! Of course he had never felt love – not from his dead parents, or Mrs. Cole, or any of the orphans, and _certainly_ not from Hermione the she-devil. But that didn't mean he wasn't aware of what a foolish act love was. He was certain he knew more on the subject than Hermione did.

"Tom..." Came her voice again. He didn't say anything. He heard her move around, and the next time she spoke, she was right behind him. "Tom... I'm sorry, Tom."

He didn't say a word.

She sighed.

"I don't know much about love – I admit that. And... all right, I know I'm only going to anger you more by saying this, but... my guess is... no one has loved you before, have they, Tom."

The nerve! How dare she ever even think about speaking to him like this. He'll have to punish her, as he did Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson. He could sneak off into the forbidden forest and find a snake and send it after her. He could hurt her, make her ever regret saying something so foul to him.

"But... I love you, Tom. Not the way Gatsby does Daisy or the way my parents love each other, but you're my friend – my first friend, at that – and I do love you."

She felt weird saying the words, telling Lord Voldemort she loved him – but she felt it necessary. Dumbledore had told Harry that Tom was incapable of love because his mothers love for his father was unrequited, and that since Tom was conceived under the use of a love potion, he wouldn't be able to truly love someone. But that couldn't be true... could it? Surely, he could heard how to love, though it might take some time. She could teach him what love was, she was sure of it.

Gently, unsure of her actions, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Tom. She felt his body go rigid under her embrace, but he didn't pull away.

He was confused. Not about what she was doing – he was aware of what a hug was. He'd just... never had one before. A hug.

He wasn't sure what to do, as he had never been in this situation before, but he knew that generally when someone hugged you, you were supposed to hug them back. He was above this sort of childish thing. Wasn't he?

To both his and Hermione's surprise, he turned around – still in her arms – and hugged her back. She was his, she had to know that. Tom Riddle did not share his things. Especially his friends – or, as he should say, _friend._

After a moment, Hermione pulled back, a soft smile on her face. "Okay?"

Tom didn't smile back, but nodded. "Okay."

He looked down, unnerved by her cheerful and caring gaze, and spotted something glittering on her left hand; a ring. His ring, to be exact.

"You're actually wearing it?" He asked, grabbing her hand so he could view the ring easier.

"Yes," Hermione replied, studying him as he studied her hand. "I haven't taken it off since you gave it to me."  
_Almost like she knows she's mine,_ Tom thought wickedly to himself as he met her eyes, smiling at her. His possession, his property, his friend. His.

"Where'd you get it?" Hermione asked, and he could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"It was my mums," He replied, dropping her hand and leaning against the window behind him. "She came into the orphanage just as she was about to give birth to me – I guess she knew she was about to die – and before she had me, she gave Mrs. Cole this ring and told her to give it to me when I was old enough to understand. I reckon it's the engagement ring my father gave her."  
Hermione felt her stomach drop. _Lord Voldemort gave me his dead mothers engagement ring._

Oh," Hermione said, staring at the ring. "Well, it's beautiful."

Tom didn't say anything, and they stayed there in that silence for several minutes, staring at each other, only looking away when they heard a noise outside. "Hermione! Hermione!"

Hermione's ears perked up at the familiar voice. Draco was searching for her. She looked to Tom, her eyes practically asking if she could go. He smiled softly and nodded. "Go. Draco obviously needs you."  
"Thanks, Tom!" Hermione said, rushing back to her chair to collect her belongings before walking towards the door. "I'll see you tonight, right?"

"Of course you will," He replied, turning to look out the window again, arms crossed behind his back. He heard the door open, then close again, and he was once again alone. _Hermione hugged me, _he thought to himself as he stared out the window, fighting the blush that threatened to spread up his neck and across his cheeks. He pushed the small fireworks spewing off in his stomach as far away as he could before collecting his things and returning to the Slytherin common room.

* * *

**Abandoned Classroom – 3rd floor, Hogwarts**

Hermione ducked inside the classroom after Draco, shutting the door behind her and casting a silencing charm on the room before casting a locking charm on the door. She turned to Draco, who looked disgruntled and was leaning against a desk.

"What's wrong?" She asked him, moving to stand across from him. He ran a hand trough his hair, which had grown quickly and was becoming fairly unruly. He looked at her, really looked at her, and she felt uncomfortable under his gaze. She shifted her weight from one foot to another, twiddling her thumbs as Draco scrutinized her. He was beginning to worry her. "...Draco?"

"When did you become friends with Tom Riddle?" He finally asked.

Hermione sighed. She thought he knew, for crying out loud! She dearly hoped he wasn't angry with her. "My birthday."  
Draco nodded. "Well, I'm not upset or angry. Just... rather surprised that you became friends with him so quickly."

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Draco shrugged, uncrossing his arms and wiping a layer of grime off the desk he was leaning against with his pointer finger. "I assume I had just figured you'd feel... uncomfortable around him, is all."  
Hermione let out a soft laugh. "I'm actually quite comfortable around him, to be honest. He reminds me of myself during our first year," she admitted, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"Was he in there with you? In the Room of Requirement."

Hermione nodded again. "Yes. We usually go there to do homework together, or practice different spells and charms. I just read today..." She trailed off, looking away from Draco. "Draco, I haven't found a way to get us out of here yet. But I think I might have found a way for us to change the future. In a good way."  
Draco looked uneasy. "Doesn't it rip the universe apart if we change the timeline?"

"I don't believe that at all. We've already tampered with the timeline by existing here. If that theory were true, the universe would have folded in on it's self the moment we arrived. My theory is that we will simply create a new timeline, and we will be the only ones who remember the original timeline."  
Draco didn't speak for a moment, letting the information sink it. He sighed, sitting down in a chair as well, rubbing his forehead with his right hand. He looked exhausted. "So what's your idea? How can we fix everything?"  
"All right... this requires a bit of background information. Ready?"  
Draco sighed. "Get on with it, Granger."  
She gave him a dirty look before speaking. "All right. Merope Gaunt was Riddle's mother. She was a pureblood witch, as you know. She, her brother Morfin and father Marvolo, and Riddle, are the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin, so of course, they all were very hateful of muggles and such. When she was young – seventeen or eighteen, I believe – Merope met Tom Riddle, a wealthy young man who was the sole heir of a wealthy family. Merope was already being abused by her brother and father at home, and once they found out she was in love with a muggle, they beat her violently and cursed Tom Riddle just because she was attracted to him. Ministry officials threw them in Azkaban for this, and free from her family, Merope decided to go after Tom Riddle. There's a couple different ways she could have done it, and it's most believed that she used Amortentia – that's what I believe – to make Tom Riddle fall in love with her. They got married." As she said this, Hermione glanced down at the ring on her finger from Tom, his mother's engagement ring. It must have been in the Riddle family for generations. She looked back up at Draco. "Merope eventually got pregnant, and she either believed that Tom truly loved her, or that he would stay with her for the sake of their unborn child and stopped giving him the potion. He left, of course."  
Draco was quiet for a moment. "What does all this mean?"

Hermione sighed softly. "It means that since he was conceived under fake love, Tom has never felt true love in his life. His mother died maybe an hour after giving birth to him, so it's not like he had the affection from his mother that we had as children. He's supposed to be incapable of love, never able to understand it."  
Draco was catching on. "So, in order to keep him from transforming into Lord Vold- You-Know-Who, we need to make him... what? Fall in love with someone?"  
"Precisely!" Hermione said, smiling triumphantly. "We're going to be here more than six and a half more years. I think that if we do this right, we can make him fall in love with someone by halfway through seventh year."

Draco nodded thoughtfully, and then his face changed first to a look of horror, and then to a smirk.

"You forgot something, Granger."

_I did?_ "What did I forget?"

Draco stood up again, moving towards the dusty windows, looking into the sunset outside.

"Well, it's just that no one else here knows about Riddle's condition, correct?"

"Well, I'm sure not even Professor Dumbledore has figured it out yet, so... yes."

Draco chuckled softly. "You do realize what that means, right?"

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Draco, I don't know what you're trying to say."

He turned back around to face her. "Hermione, we have to make Tom Marvolo Riddle fall in love with someone. But we can't go off telling anyone. It's not like we have an eligible girl we can play with like a doll, tell her what to do and how to live her life, in order to make Riddle fall in love with her. It's also very unlikely that he'll be that open with another person as well."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Okay... and...? I still don't quite follow what you're saying."

Draco sighed in exasperation, running a hang through his already tousled hair. "Bloody hell, Hermione, and they say you're supposed to be the brightest witch of our generation! _You_, Hermione. We're going to have to make Riddle fall in love with _you_."

* * *

**please**** let me know what you think! your reviews are what keeps me updating! next chapter should [hopefully] be up in a week or a week in a half!**

**until then,**

**umbridgesnapecarrow x**


	5. Chapter 5

**hi i aM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO POST THIS CHAPTER. i literally started writing it, ahtes it, and began rewriting it... like... six times. i still don't like it and was very unhappy with it, which is why it's so short... sorry :-(**

**also, i got a couple comments on the last chapter how eleven-year-old's didn't aren't like the way i had written, or that the characters said things eleven-year-old's wouldn't say... am i the only one who knew eleven-year-old-s like that? i mean, i was eleven nearly seven years ago, but things couldn't have changed too much, right..? i was trying to base personalities/things said on boys i knew when i was eleven-years-old. anyway, i apologize if this upset/confused anyone and i will try to pay better attention to it in future chapters.**

**disclaimer: i don't own harry potter!**

* * *

**October 31, 1938**

"I think we should talk to Dumbledore."

Draco looked up from the discarded copy of The Daily Prophet he had been reading, not surprised to see Hermione standing before him. "Why?"

"Well, I was thinking," Hermione began as she sat down,"If anyone here would know exactly what sent us back here or how to get us back home, it would be him."  
Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "And what makes you think that?"

Hermione huffed. "Honestly, Draco, why must you doubt him? He's the greatest wizard alive, and if anyone could possibly help us, it would be him." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring at her brother defiantly,  
Draco rubbed his eyes, feeling the familiar headache that he associated with Hermione's nagging forming yet again. "Okay, whatever, we'll talk to the old coot."  
Hermione scowled at him before pushing her bench out and walking out of the Great Hall, nose in the air. Draco almost found it comical, Hermione getting defensive about Dumbledore.

Not long after Hermione left, the seats around him were filled by Rosier, Abraxas, and Alphard, as they usually did. After Draco's outburst earlier in the month, Rosier had made sure to keep his mouth shut about Tom and Hermione around Draco; though he still talked about them when Draco wasn't present. The time traveler was surprised the boy still associated with him at all.

"Morning, boys," Alphard said cheerfully, piling food onto his plate.

Draco eyes the boy skeptically, grabbing his goblet of pumpkin juice. "What's got you in such a good mood, Black?"

"It's Halloween!" Alphard replied, all too cheerful. "Come on, Pope, you can't seriously say you don't enjoy Halloween."

Draco shrugged. "It's all right, I suppose."

Abraxas, Rosier and Alphard stared at him, each giving their friend a bit of a weird look.

"What?" Draco demanded, feeling his headache worsen. _It's not going to be a good day._

"Did you not celebrate Halloween at home?" Abraxas questioned, looking from Draco to the Halloween decorations adorning the Great Hall.

Draco slouched, thinking back to Halloweens during his childhood. It was one of the days where both of his parents seemed to relax. Lucius would always get really into the holiday, demanding the house elves to prepare a huge Halloween feast and to decorate the house. His father seemed to actually be somewhat happy on Halloween. His mother was happy as well, Draco assumed because her husband had relaxed enough to enjoy himself for once.

He should answer yes, that he did celebrate Halloween when he was younger, but the more he thought about it the more it made him miss _Before_, as he and Hemrione had taken to calling the time before they were hurled through time.

"No," Draco replied, meeting his grandfathers gaze. "We never really took to celebrating Halloween. Father was always busy with work. Plus Hermione is frightened of vampires and other monsters, so we decided to not take a chance of scaring her." Draco shrugged, going back to his food and shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Just wait until tonight!" Abraxas exclaimed. "I asked some second years, and apparently they go all out here for Halloween! You'll see what it's all about tonight, Pope."

Draco stayed out of the boys conversation, thoughts still suck on past holidays from Before. He sighed silently, looking up at the sky reflected on the ceiling. _Oh yes, it id _definitely_ going to be a long day, indeed._

* * *

"All right, students, settle down!" Professor Merrythought shouted over the excited first years, trying to gain their attention in order to teach the days lesson. "Children! If you would quiet down, we could begin the days lesson!" The aging professor sighed, close to giving up on gaining her students attention. Of course none of them wanted to pay attention – the were first years and it was Halloween. A disastrous match, in the professor's opinion.

"Students, if you would just quiet down, I'll teach a somewhat Halloween themed lesson today!"

The students gradually stopped talking amongst each other, giving the professor their attention. Smiling triumphantly, Professor Merrythought moved to the front of the room.

"As you all know, this is a course meant to tell you how to defend yourselves from the Dark Arts, and wizards who practice these arts." She paused. "However, I like to take one day out of the year to teach you about muggle lore concerning the Dark Arts."

"Muggle lore?" A student asked.

"Precisely. Now, who can tell me about vampires? Let's see... Mr. Riddle?"

Tom lowered his hand, meeting the professor's gaze. "Vampires are, obviously, magical creatures. Also known as the 'living dead', they are nocturnal and stalk their pray at night to feast on their blood."

Professor Merrythought beamed at him. "Wonderful, Mr. Riddle! Five points to Slytherin."

Tom smirked as he sat back in his seat, glancing over at Hermione. She sat on the other side of the room, unfortunately, so the most they could communicate during Tom's favorite class was by stolen glances and shared looks.

"Now, muggles have numerous rumors about vampires; for example, muggles have this myth that garlic wards off vampires." Students around the room snickered at this.

"Other rumors, however, are based on real vampires wizards deal with. As you all know, vampires can turn into bats, and..."

Tom tuned out of the professors discussion, instead focusing on Hermione. Their friendship was very, very odd. He'd never met someone so like himself until he met her. And she was like him – she might not admit just how alike they are, but he can see it. She had a dark side, and although she kept it in check, Tom could see it clear as day.

She seemed to be so intrigued by the discussion, and he loved watching her. The way her eyes rounded as she stared at the professor as if even blinking would cause her to miss vital information. It was amusing. He wondered if he looked like that while learning, too.

"All right, enough about vampires. Let's see... let's move onto a topic muggles know nothing about. How many of you know who Grindelwald is?"

Tom looked back up in interest. Every student in the class had raised a hand.

"Excellent. Grindelwald is, essentially, the darkest wizard of all time."  
Another student raised their hand. "Professor, what makes him so... dark?"

It was quiet for a moment as Professor Merrythought leaned against her desk, searching for the right words to say. "Students, please understand when I tell you that I can't go into great detail with that for you. Not until you're at least fourth years. But, I can tell you this; Grindelwald hates muggles. Muggle-born witches and wizards – as well as purebloods who befriend muggleborns, known as 'blood traitors' – are at as much of a risk to his wrath as muggles are. So, children, I advise you this: if you hear of Grindelwald in an area, or that he is attacking an area near by, turn away. Get out as far as you can. Try to stay as safe as possible in these times, children."

Tom masked his smirk. He and Grindelwald were more alike than he had originally guessed. Ever since he had learned of his place in the wizarding world, Tom felt his true annoyance and irritation with muggles come out. It was overwhelming, really, how much he absolutely could not stand muggles.

Yes. He and Grindelwald were very alike indeed.

* * *

As she did on most days, Hermione found herself in the library after classes ended, flipping through her Transfiguration textbook. She has already finished her assignments for the day and wanted some leisure time to read. It felt nice to be alone for once, without Tom or Draco trailing alongside her. She was always with one of the boys; it almost felt weird being out of their company. She had to lie to both of them, telling Draco she was with Tom and telling Tom she was with Draco, in order to get away from them.

_Not that I don't care about them,_ Hermione reminded herself. _We all need alone time every now and then, right?_

Thinking about it almost made her want to laugh. The two sole people she actually somewhat cared about here were Tom Marvolo Riddle and Draco Malfoy. While she still found the thought preposterous, she couldn't deny that she did care about the two boys.

She quickly shook her head. _No thinking about them. This is_ my_ time._

Hermione lost herself in the book once again, seeing Transfiguration in a whole new light, as she had since she began learning it under Albus Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall had been a terrific instructor, of course, but there was something about having Professor Dumbledore as an instructor that made the subject all the more exciting.

She smiled softly to herself as she finished another chapter in the book. She sat up slowly, rubbing at the back of her neck where an ache had formed from leaning over for so long. She stretched out her arms and her back, yawning softly. Glancing to the clock on the wall, she jumped with a start – dinner started fifteen minutes ago! Hermione quickly shoved her belongings in her bag, pulling the strap over her shoulder and heading towards the door. As she passed the restricted section, however, a strange sound caught her attention. After glancing to the front desk to make sure Madam Ronan had left the library for the feast, Hermione creeped into the restricted section.

The restricted section held considerably less books than Hermione remembered, making it difficult to remain unseen. She softly muttered the incantation for the disillusionment charm, moving forward once she double checked her new-found invisibility. The strange sounds she had previously heard continued and grew louder as she went deeper and deeper into the restricted section. As she drew closer, Hermione was horrified to find that the noises were whimpers and soft cries of _pain_. Upon realizing this, she moved quicker through the stacks of books.

After what felt close to hours, though she knew it had only been a few minutes, Hermione came to a clearing at the back of the restricted section. There was a solitary table in the middle of the clearing, one chair tucked into it. To the left of the table, much to Hermione's shock, stood Tom, wand at the ready. Five feet from him Abraxas Malfoy, Dominic Rosier and Alphard Black were all in heaps on the floor, all moaning in pain. Hermione covered her mouth with both hands to hide her gasp, not believing what she was seeing. She knew Tom had bullied and, to an extent, tortured his followers before they actually _became_ his followers, but had no idea he started in his first year.

She slowly moved forward, crouching down beside the right side of the table, sitting on her hands and knees. Tom slowly moved forward, stopping when he was right in front his classmates. "Pathetic." His voice, which had sounded to light to Hermione earlier that day, was now dark and cold. Hermione suppressed a shiver at his tone.

"Absolutely pathetic. How could any of you possibly think you could be of any match to me?" Tom was slowly circling the boys, arms folded behind his back, wand still clutched tightly. He stopped next to Rosier, prodding the boy with his foot to roll him over. Hermione had to bite down on her lower lip to keep from calling out once she saw the poor boy's face. Dried blood was caked around his nose and Hermione was almost certain Tom had broken it, and it looked like he'd taken a slicing hex to his shoulder. Hermione was sure Tom had hit the boy with several other curses as well.

"You all think that because I'm quiet... because I have one sole friend... because I don't know whether my parents were magical or not... you are better than me?" It sounded much more like a statement than an actual question.

The three boys on the floor remained silent.

Tom chuckled. "Of course you think you're better then me. Let me be the first to remind you that you're not."

Tom walked over to Abraxas next, who was closest to Hermione. The blonde boy laid on the floor, slightly shivering. Hermione found herself thankful that Tom didn't turn Abraxas over; she didn't think she could stomach seeing more blood.

"Abraxas," Tom said softly, looking into the boys face. "Such a shame. I would think you, being so _well-educated _and from such a _noble, pureblood family, _would know better than to underestimate those around you."

Abraxas began shaking softly.

"Pathetic," came Tom's voice again. "All of you." He returned to the table, leaning against it. "You all are to go to the nearest bathroom and clean yourselves up. You will not speak a word of this to anyone, not even amongst yourselves. From now on, you all _will_ respect me and will do as I tell you to do. Do I make myself clear?"

The three boys each murmured a yes, too frightened to say otherwise.

"Leave."

Hermione had never seen the three move so quickly in the short time she had known them. She waited until they had left the area to stand up, still under her disillusionment charm. She looked at Tom in fear, realizing just how quickly it took for him to turn dark.

He eyed the spot where she stood wearily. "I know you're there."

Hermione mentally kicked herself. Of course Tom knew she was here. She took the disillusionment charm off and took a tentative step closer to him. "How did you know I was here?"

"I saw you reading when I followed that lot over here. Figured you'd grow curious."

Hermione didn't miss the cold note in his voice; he knew she hadn't been with Draco and he was angry. "Listen, Tom -"

"Why did you lie to me?"

His voice was still cold and uninviting. Hermione sighed. "I just wanted a moment to myself. I can't be around you or Draco all the time, you know." Tom gave her a cold look and grabbed his bag before turning away.

"Tom, I didn't mean it like that!" Hermione cried, walking up to him and turning him around to face her. He glared at her and, despite her fear, she glared right back at him. They stood like that for several moments, glaring at one another, before Tom broke the silence.

"You will not lie to me again," he began in a low voice. "I would hate to do to you what I had to do back there."

Hermione felt her blood run cold. He couldn't possibly be implying that he would hurt her, could he?

Tom snapped Hermione out of her thoughts by grabbing her hand, warm inside his own. "Come on. We need to get to dinner."

Hermione stared at Tom as he dragged her towards the Great Hall, horrified. As she entered the Hall, she immediately met Draco's gaze. His gaze turned from confused to worried when he took in her terrified expression. She mouthed "later" at him, sitting down beside Tom as he pulled her down. As she had expected, Abraxas Malfoy, Alphard Black and Dominic Rosier were missing from the table; instead, in their place sat John Paul Lestrange, speaking quietly with Draco. Hermione had never seen Lestrange speak up in class, little less to his housemates.

Lestrange looked up at she and Tom, and Hermione just barely saw him wince as he met Tom's gaze. Could Tom have hurt him, too?

Lestrange, who looked rather frightened, was the complete opposite of Tom at the moment; He was sitting straighter than he had during class that day, a smirk plastered across his young, arrogant face. Hermione started at him, still shaken up by the scene in the library, until he met her gaze and his smirk grew.

He was still holding onto her hand.

* * *

**once again, i just want to apologize for this chapter being so... well, crappy. i don't know why it was so hard to write, but it was. blah. i'll try to have my next update up as soon as i can.**

**until then,**

**~umbridgesnapecarrow**


	6. Chapter 6

**hiiiii!**

**so i'm actually really happy with this chapter... it took me so long to get the last chapter right but this one came so easily. i tried to fit several different things in it.**

**also, tom seems a bit... ooc in this chapter. he's going to be the tom everyone knows him as in this, but he's also going to be slightly... changing. i'm not sure how to describe it. it'll all make sense in the end.**

**also: i've received a couple questions about how long this story is going to be. i've been trying to post a chapter or two for each month of the year, hoping to take this all the way through seventh year. i might split it into two stories, though - i might put years 1-4/5 in this story and begin a new one for years 5/6-7. i haven't decided yet. it all depends how long this is around the end of 3/4 year. i might just do it all as one story though asnd just let it be super long.**

**i'm blabbing. sorry.**

**one more thing before i finally get on to the story: there may or may not be an update next week. i have a dress fitting for my sisters wedding on sunday, a concert next monday night, and my birthday is next friday (finally 18! woo hoo!) along with musical rehearsal after school and work a couple nights this week. i don't work or have musical rehearsal this upcoming saturday, though, so expect another update then. if there's not an update that day, it might be another week... sorry :/ just wanted to let you all know.**

**on to the story!**

**disclaimer: i don't own harry potter.**

* * *

**November 1, 1938**

Hermione told Draco about the scene in the library the next morning.

"It's scary, really," she admitted, staring into the fire crackling in the empty common room. "I never realized how young he was when he began torturing people. I can't even begin to imagine all the hexes he used on them."  
"How advanced do you think he is?" Draco asked, looking from the fire to Hermione.

She shrugged. "I'd say that he's learning spells that we probably learned during third year. I've never seen him research them, though, so he must be doing it while he's alone."  
"We could slow his progress if we made sure there wasn't a moment he was alone," Draco commented, watching Hermione out of his peripheral vision to catch her reaction.

Her eyes slightly widened and she turned away from the fire, completely facing Draco. "Are you mad? There's no way I can manage to be around him at all times! Not knowing what he will eventually turn into, especially not after last night.."

"Where's that bloody Gryffindor bravery at, eh? You're already around him half the time anyway, don't try lying, Granger, I know you enjoy his company."

"Malfoy – "

"And he seems quite fond of you as well. He looks like you the same way Weasel King looks at a platter of food," Malfoy said, a disgusted sneer masking his face.

Hermione looked away from him, slouching against the couch. "He does not enjoy my company. He merely tolerates me, nothing more."  
"Yeah, well, you haven't seen the possessive look he gives you. 'Brightest witch of her age' my arse, Granger, you're so bloody naive! How old are you again, five?"

Hermione gave him a steely glare. "In case you forgot, Malfoy, I am technically _twelve_ as of right now. Stop being such an arse!"

"Why don't you stop being so stupid, huh? Why don't you – dammit, Granger, are you still wearing that bloody ring he gave you?"  
Hermione looked down to her left hand and felt her face slightly flush. Indeed, the ring Tom gave her was still resting on her ring finger, catching the light from the fire and tossing it onto the walls.

"That doesn't matter," Hermione said quickly.

"But wasn't that one of his – "

"_NO!"_ Hermione exclaimed loudly before he could utter the word _Horcrux_. She lowered her voice to almost a whisper. "We still have a few years before he'll begin making those. And that was a different ring. How do you even know about those?"

Draco smirked, turning away from her to look into the fire again. "After he found out what you and Potty and Weaselbee were up to, he returned to the manor. He was proper blazing, he was. I don't think I've ever seen him so angry." Draco softly shook his head. "He called us all to the drawing room and showed us what each of the Horcruxes were – minus Potter, of course, I don't think he realized Potty was one of them – and how they were all destroyed, save for Nagini and the Diadem." He looked back at Hermione, holding her gaze. "Most of us got the Cruciatus Curse for that one."  
Suddenly uncomfortable, Hermione looked down to her hands, twiddling her thumbs. Draco was inadvertently implying that is was her, Ron, and Harry's faults that he and other Death Eaters had been put under the Cruciatus that day, and the worst part was she knew it was absolutely true. It was a well-known fact that Lord Voldemort tortured his followers, but from her knowledge, all of them have never been cursed within the same day. This wouldn't affect her if it hadn't been for the boy next to her, who had put under it so many times at such a young age.

_Great, now I care about Draco Malfoy. Perfect, _Hermione bitterly thought to herself. She was pulled out of her thoughts as other students started filing into the common room, their conversations rising to the high ceiling and echoing around.

Hermione stood slowly, picking up her bag and turning towards Draco. "After Transfiguration this afternoon we'll stay behind to speak with Professor Dumbledore. Maybe he could help us." Without another word, or even waiting for Tom, She turned on her heel and left the common room.

Draco stared after her for a moment, slowly rubbing at his eyes. He was extremely tired and he was positive that Hermione was to blame.

He felt the couch dip beside him and turned to find none other than Tom Riddle sitting on the cushion Hermione had previously occupied. Tom didn't look at him as he spoke. "Where is Hermione?"

Draco swallowed. "She left for the Great Hall already. She's not exactly in a good mood," Draco said nonchalantly, hoping the young Dark Lord's influence wouldn't make Hermione change her mind about going to Dumbledore later that day. Even though he couldn't stand the man, he was all too aware that only Dumbledore could help them return home.

Tom raised a single, perfect eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"We got into a bit of a... disagreement," Draco said carefully. He didn't want to be at the receiving end of Tom's wand if he was as protective about Hermione as Draco had guessed.

"About?" Tom pressed, his voice dropping a bit of his warmth. Draco held back a shiver.

"Just stupid stuff, like always. You know how Hermione is, she overreacts quite a bit," he said, hoping Tom wouldn't catch the nervousness lacing his voice.

Tom turned to Draco, his gaze so intense that Draco couldn't hold it for very long. "As I'm sure you have noticed, Draco, Hermione is my best friend. She is very dear to me and I care about her very much. I am aware that you are her brother, but make no mistake, if you upset her in the future, I will find you. And you will regret it. Do you understand me?"

Draco nodded slightly, seeing the future Lord Voldemort deep in Tom's eyes.

Tom smiled slightly. "Good. I'm glad you understand. I'll be off to find Hermione now."

As Tom left the common room, Draco remained frozen in his seat. Hermione had been right – Tom began the transition from Tom Marvole Riddle to Lord Voldemort at a very young age, indeed.

But he had been right, too. Tom was as possessive over Hemione as he suspected, if not more. _There's no way I can tell her about this_, Draco thought to himself, panic rising in his chest._ If I tell Hermione, it will only worry her. She has to know already, though. She has to see the way he looks at her as if he owns her. _Softly shaking his head, he stood up when Abraxas entered the common room to leave for breakfast. It didn't escape his attention that Abraxas walked with a slight limp, a result from last night's 'activities', he didn't doubt. As he entered the Great Hall, he glanced from Hermione sitting with Tom up to Dumbledore at the staff table. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Hermione fidgeted all through Transfiguration, her last class of the day. She was very eager to speak with Professor Dumbledore, especially if he knew a way that could help her and Draco return home. The class dragged on, and just when she thought she was close to going insane, the class ended. Hermione stood slowly, taking her time packing her books into her bag. She had already told Tom she was staying behind after class to speak with Professor Dumbledore, and even though she told Tom she wished to speak to a Professor about a serious matter, she hadn't technically been lying, she reminded herself. She let Tom assume she was speaking to the Professor about a grade instead of time travel.

_What he doesn't know won't hurt him... or me,_ Hermione told herself, waiting until the last student walked out of the class to walk towards the front of the room with Draco.

Professor Dumbledore looked between the two of them for a few seconds before smiling softly, eyes crinkling in the corners. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss. Granger, I was wondering when I would be able to speak with the two of you."  
Upon hearing his true surname from someone other than Hermione, Draco became defensive. "How did you know our real last names?" He demanded.

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Ah, Draco. There is nothing that goes on in this castle that I am not aware of. Come, let's go into my office, I trust it's more private there."

Once situated in the Professors office, Hermione and Draco launched into their tale of patrolling the halls, seeing the strange light inside the Forbidden Forest, getting caught inside it, and waking up as siblings. Dumbledore stayed quiet until they finished, and once they did, he stood, walking to a bookshelf in a corner of his office. He returned a moment later, a thick book in his arms.

"Children, I believe I may know what you're talking about," he said softly, opening the book. He flipped through the pages for a moment before finding what he was looking for. He turned the book so Hermione and Draco could read it.

**_Victis Monstrum_**

_The Victis Monstrum is a very rare form of magic seemingly produced by nothing. The Victis Monstrum appears to those who have a great chance of defeating evil and changing time as he/she currently knows it. It is commonly characterized as having a strange glow, and upon closer inspection, takes the form of the world surrounded by electricity. Once caught by one, the Monstrum will transport the man/woman it has caught to a time where they are needed to defeat evil or a source of dark magic. However, the Monstrum only appears when he/she who is evil has a chance of renewing their ways. It is unknown if one can return to their previous life after being chosen by the Monstrum. The Victis Monstrum has only been seen two times in recorded history, first by Krankfürt the Great in year 72 and again by Mourisseimo Abbadelli in 1542._

Hermione and Draco looked from the book, to each other, back to the Professor. "I believe the two of you have been picked to save your future," Professor Dumblefore said, a soft smile on his face. "Tell me, is there a dark ruler in your time?"

Draco hesitated, but eventually spoke up. "Yes, Proferssor. But he had been defeated for six months when we saw the... the Victis Monstrum."

Dumbledore nodded. "And, I'm assuming since it brought you here to go to Hogwarts at thie specific time, this Dark Lord of your time in a student here, am I correct?"

Hermione nodded, glancing back down to the book, which was still open to the Victis Monstrum.

"It's Tom Riddle, isn't it."

Hermione quickly met her Professor's gaze. "Sir, how did you..?"

"How did I know Mr. Riddle would grow to do great, if terrible, things?" Hermione and Draco both nodded yes.

"I could tell from the moment I met him the day I visited him in his orphanage," Dumbledore admitted, sitting up straighter, lacing his fingers together. "The way that he carried himself and acted made it quite obvious that he expected to do great things in life. Miss. Granger. I believe you are here because Tom wasn't supposed to die when he did, that his soul is meant to be saved."

"What are we supposed to do then?" Draco asked, leaning forward in this seat. "So this thing sent us back because he can stop him from turning into a Dark Lord?"

"Precisely."

"And how do we do that?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, Mr. Malfoy, but I do not know how. The Monstrum sent you and Miss Granger back because it believed the two of you are intelligent and skilled enough to find out on your own. I'm afraid there is nothing I can do to help you."

"So... so we have to do this by ourselves..? What if we fail?"

Dumbledore smiled again. "I doubt you will fail, children." He stood, walking to his bookshelf and returning with another book. "Though I can not help you, that is not to say that I cannot help get you started. I have a theory as to how you can keep Mr. Riddle from choosing a dark path."

Dumbledore flipped through the book, finding the page he was looking for, and again moved it so Hermione and Draco could read its contents.

_Often through history, witches/wizards have made others fall into a "fake' love with themselves. While occasionally done under the Imperious Curse, it is most commonly done under the influence of Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in existence. A witch/wizard would give this potion to the once he/she is in love with, and it would cause the drinker to fall in love with them. However, once the drinker is no longer given the potion, he/she will lose affections for the one who gave it to them and be left to their own free will. If a wizard used this potion on a witch and she became pregnant, the child would be in grave danger, because they will be conceived under fake love._

_A child conceived this way will need to experience true love themselves, or face life unable to love. It could take years for these children to fall in love or find true love, for they will only be freed of this curse if the one they fall in love with is indeed their soulmate. If they don't fall in love with their soulmate before the last minute of the night the day before their eighteenth birthday, they will not be able to love at all. This could lead to a very dangerous individual, and it is due to this that Amortentia should be made only for educational purposes._

Dumbledore was the first to speak.

"I'm assuming the two of you know about Tom's parents and how he was born."  
Hermione and Draco nodded slowly, both quiet. It was another moment before either of them spoke up.

"So you think we need to make Riddle fall in love with someone."  
Professor Dumbledore nodded, looking from Draco to Hermione, who seemed to be conflicted.

Draco let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. "Looks like you were right, Granger. We need to make him fall in love. But I believe I was right, too. We have to make Tom Riddle fall in love with _you_."

Hermione remained silent.

"He's absolutely right, Hermione," Professor Dumbledore said, closing both the books and returning them to his book shelf. "The Victis Monstrum wouldn't have sent you back unless you were the one that Mr. Riddle was supposed to fall in love with. Mr. Riddle and yourself are soul mates."

"Then why am I here? Why did I get sent back is the thing only needed her?"

Dumbledore turned his attention from Hermione to Draco. "Draco, my dear child, the Victis Monstrum doesn't send people back in time by accident. It sent you alone with Miss. Granger because you, too, have a purpose here as well. I cannot be sure, but I'm assuming you're here to assist Miss. Granger."

The three of them fell silent.

"Well, Miss. Granger, you're already friends with Mr. Riddle, correct?"

Hermione, unable to find her voice, nodded again.

"Then you will need to let him know that you are interested in him in... more than a friendly way," the professor said."

Hermione finally looked up into her Professor's eyes. "But I'm _not_ interested in him that way, Professor. I'll never be able to be attracted to him."

"But you are, or you will. The Monstrum makes no mistakes, Miss., Granger. You have to make Tom Riddle fall in love with you. And along the way you will most likely fall in love with him as well."

Hermione stared at her professor, anger swimming in her gray eyes. She quickly picked up her bag and stormed out of the office before Draco and Professor Dumbledore could see the tears that had gathered in her eyes begin to stream down her face.

It was too much.

Her conversation with Draco about this, only a month ago, felt like it was light years ago. Back then, she could convince herself that Draco had been wrong; he was just guessing, trying to upset her.

But hearing it from Professor Dumbledore completely changed everything. Even though she was technically born forty-eight years after him, she was Tom Riddle's soul mate. And now that she was here in his time period, that she was brought here to save him, keep him from turning into Lord Voldemort, he was going to fall in love with her. She had to make him

Hermione sank down beside a wall, vision blurry through the tears streaming down her face. Tom Marvolo Riddle was her soul mate. She felt her heart ache as she saw Ron's face flash in her mind. She was always so sure it was him. Even though they hadn't been together when the Victis Monstrum sent her here, she was so sure that they'd get back together. She was positive she would marry Ron Weasley one day, that he would be the love of her life.

She never thought that the man she was made to be with would one day become Lord Voldemort.

_But he won't become Lord Voldemort_, a voice somewhere inside her head reminded her. _Isn't that why you're here?_

He'd already began torturing people, manipulating them. She'd seen it with her own eyes. He was already heading down a dark path. How the hell would love be able to change him?

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, pulling Hermione away from her thoughts. She scrambled to her feet, hurrying off to find an empty room. She needed room to breathe, and this hallway was becoming suffocating.

* * *

Hermione was in the Room of Requirement when Tom found her.

He knew something was wrong when she hadn't returned to the common room or shown up at dinner. He almost grew worried when he cornered Draco, who admitted he didn't even know where she was. She wasn't even in the library, and she's_ always_ in the library!

He paced before the wall three times, thinking slowly and deliberately. _I need the study room... a place to get away... where Hermione might be..._

The familiar wooden door appeared on the wall and Tom yanked it open, slamming it behind him.

He walked through the bookshelves until he got to the center of the room where be found Hermione, curled up as tightly as she could in a large armchair, shoulders softly shaking.

Tom stopped in his tracks. Hermione, crying..?

He slowly walked over to her, careful not to make a lot of noise. After standing in front of her chair for a moment, he sat down. "Hermione."

She froze, but stayed in the same position. Tom put a hand on her shoulder, than then began rubbing her back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. She seemed to relax a little, which Tom was thankful for. She seemed fine after her fight with Draco that morning, but Tom had expected something like this to happen soon enough. Seeing Hermione so upset made anger rise within him, though. No one has the right to upset someone who was so clearly his. He would make whoever hurt her regret living, wish they were already six foot under so they wouldn't have to face his wrath.

Tom wrapped his arms around Hermione, pulling her against his chest. She was always making sure he was okay that he sometimes forgot she needed comforting, too.

Tom scowled at himself. He had never comforted someone before, little less cared about them. It was a strange feeling. He had questioned everything he knew about himself upon acquiring Hermione as a friend, and at first it had made him angry, but right now, when he was holding her while her body shook, he couldn't seem to care.

"Who was it? Who hurt you?"

She didn't say anything, or look up. Tom was growing impatient.

"Hermione, I can't make it better if you don't tell me what happened."

She sniffled. "It wouldn't matter either way. You can't do something to a Professor, Tom."

_So that's who it was._ Professor Dumbledore had somehow hurt Hermione. _His_ Hermione.

"Hermione, I could hurt people for you. I _will_ hurt people for you. Do you understand me? What I did to Black, Rosier and Malfoy last night will seem _elementary_ compared to what I will do to whoever even _thinks_ about harming you in some way."

Hermione froze for a moment in his arms. She lifted her head and rubbed at her eyes before turning to face him. The look in her eyes was an odd one; she looked as if she had made a huge decision. Not as if she had given something up, but like she had decided she wanted something, or would do something important or life-changing. Tom couldn't find any exact words for it. He vowed to himself to ask her about it later.

"Come, Tom. It's getting late." She grabbed his hand – the first time she had grabbed his hand first – and stood up. She hugged him before they left the Room of Requirement, her chin resting on his shoulder. Tom tentatively wrapped his arms back around her, not sure what she was playing at. He could see that she was pretending to be all right – he wasn't stupid, he could see she was still upset about something. He chose to ignore it, though, and lead her back to the Slytherin common room, making sure everyone they passed in the hallways could see that she clearly belonged to him.

* * *

**_01/11/38_**

**_Hermione was upset today. She wouldn't tell me why. Though I am almost positive it has something to do with Professor Dumbledore. I do not know what he said to her or what he did, for she would not tell me. If I ever find out what he did, he will be dead. No one hurts Hermione – my Hermione – and gets away with it._**

**_I think she's frightened of me due to what I said to her in the library last night. Those words were empty, though. How could I ever hurt her? She is absolutely fascinating. Her wavy, thick hair, her grey eyes that seem almost out of place with her face and hair, the way she's so confident she knows anything – she is nothing like any of the girls back in the orphanage. No girl in Hogwarts could ever compare to her. She is mine._**

**_Rosier, Black and Malfoy. The three of them are insufferable idiots. How dare any of them think their magical capabilities could even compare to mine? I am studying third year spells and charms in my free time, learning more and more each day. I will be a greater wizard than any of them could ever dream of becoming. I think Malfoy likes Hermione. He's always looking at her in class or at the Great Hall. It doesn't help that he's friends with her brother. I assume they knew each other outside of school as well. That won't do. Abraxas needs to learn to not try to take what so obviously belongs to another man. Because she is mine. She might not be aware of it, but she is. From the moment she accepted that ring she has been mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine._**

**_She held my hand today – it was the first time she held mine first. And then she hugged me. It's nothing we haven't done before, but doing it still made my pulse quicken. I like touching her. She is perfect and pure and everyone else in this world is dirty, tainted._**

**_I won't let them hurt her._**

* * *

**puhhh-lease**** let me know what you think!**

**also: "Victis Monstrum" - "destroying the monster".**


	7. Chapter 7

**so, today i have an unfortunately long authors note for you all. please take a moment to actual read at least the first half of it.**

**when i posted the last chapter, i told you all i was unsure about when the next chapter would be posted. it's actually a miracle i got this posted today, considering the circumstances i've been going through this week.**

**there will more than likely not be an update next week. or even the week after. because my grandma died this past thursday. she is the second grandparent i've lost right before my birthday, and she died almost the exact way my mother did. i'm going through a very hard time right now. i will be going out of town this upcoming tuesday and won't be back until that thursday. chances are after all that i won't want to write for a few days. it took everything i have to even finish and edit this chapter because i'm so torn up about her death. i sincerely apologize. please respect my decision to utilize this time to be with my remaining family members/grieve over the next week or so.**

_**(you can stop reading the an at this point if you wish)**_

**anyway... i just wanted to say THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MORE THAN 100 FOLLOWS ASDFGHJKL that's crazy i never thought this story would be that good, especially with the way my thoughts are constantly flicking from one to another and such.**

**also, i've gotten a couple comments about hermione being ooc. please keep in mind that she's 12-years-old, in an unfamiliar time, with no one but the boy who has been bullying her for seven years, and she's been told that basically saving the darkest soul to ever exist rests in her hands. so, of course, she wouldn't be as brave as she once had been. she will get her bravery back, though. don't give up on hermione just yet.**

**(sorry if that sounded bitchy. long week.)**

**also, in my opinion, this chapter sucks. i just kinda lost it after i found out what happened. sorry.**

**disclaimer: i do not own harry potter.**

* * *

**December 16, 1938**

Hermione sat back in her seat, smiling down at the Charms essay before her. It was the last day of classes before Christmas break, and considering the past month and a half she's had, she was really looking forward to a break.

She sighed softly, sitting back in her seat. She couldn't remember when she'd turned into such a pathetic coward. She subconsciously traced the words engraved on her left forearm; the scar might be invisible, but she could still feel that hurtful word raised up upon her flesh. She found herself doing that a lot lately, tracing over the scar. She'd made the mistake of doing it in front of Tom a couple weeks ago and he'd been convinced she was hiding something from him. It took her three days to satisfy him with the explanation that it was a place she had accidentally injured herself when younger. She could almost tell he didn't believe her, though, and that thought terrified her. She knew he would not hesitate to hurt her if he knew she was lying.

A shiver run up her spine and she didn't have to turn around to know that Tom was staring at her. She felt like hitting herself for so acting so cowardly. Refusing to turn and meet Tom's gaze, she pulled another of the books her parents sent her out of her bag, _Wuthering Heights_. She allowed herself to indulge into the book, losing herself between Heathcliff and Catherine, but quickly found herself growing annoyed by the female lead by the time Professor Rounmorf dismissed class. Carefully bookmarking her page, Hermione gathered her stuff together, so annoyed by Catherine that her previous joy at being released for break slipped away.

"You look like you're in a foul mood. Either you're not content with your essay or you've been reading another one of those Muggle novels."

Hermione didn't need to look up to see the smirk she knew was plastered on Tom's face, but she did anyway. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him fully for the first time in a month and a half. She always forgot how beautiful he was, even at such a young age.

She let out a huff as they exited the classroom, hoping he hadn't seen her cheeks flush. "Catherine Earnshaw is an absolute nitwit."

Tom raised his eyebrows, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "Catherine Earnshaw?"

Hermione grabbed her copy of _Wuthering Heights_ out of her bag, handing it to Tom. He flipped through the pages, immediately recognizing Hermione's handwriting as she scattered notes and thoughts across the pages. The act had originally annoyed him – he couldn't borrow a single book from her without it being all marked up! He had grown to enjoy her little thoughts, though, and her anger she often expressed towards the characters amused him more than the actual book did.

"Catherine Earnshaw picked to be with a man – not her true love – just because he was higher in society than her true love was. She chose being seen as a respectful, loyal wife rather than true love!"

Tom hadn't heard Hermione go on a rant about true love among characters since she went on about _The Great Gatsby_. He glanced at her curiously, handing the book back to her. "Did she now?"

"Yes!" Hermione fumed, placing the book back inside her bag.

"Care to explain?" Tom asked as they reached the dungeons, turning to the painting of a Roman war that served as their portal to the Slytherin common room. "Bezoar."

The portrait swung open, allowing the two students in. The common room was mostly empty, save for a few older students in one corner. Tom and Hermione made themselves comfortable on a couch right in front of the fireplace, and Tom watched Hermione carefully as she pulled the book out of her bag again.

"So in the book, Catherine meets Heathcliff – and she loves him! But then she meets Edgar Linton, and she thinks she loves him, too. So she has to decide who to pick – Heathcliff was an orphan, and he grew close with Catherine before Edgar even came into the picture! Edgar, however, is high in society. So Catherine picked him."

Tom raised another eyebrow at her. "And why is that so bad?"

Forgetting about her fear of the boy before him, Hermione fumed again. "Because! Because Catherine picking Edgar and not Heathcliff – it's terrible! It literally ruins everyones lives!"  
"Does it now?" Tom asked, an amused grin spreading across his face.

"Of course! Catherine and Heathcliff's marriage has such disastrous results! And Heathcliff ends up marrying Isabella but is so abusive towards her – I assume because of what he believes to be unrequited love for Catherine – so she ends up leaving him! No one ends up happy."

"So if Catherine had simply married Heathcliff, everyone would have had a happy ending."

"Yes, exactly!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

Tom smirked at her before looking down to the book, flipping through it again. "You know, that could also be applied towards wizarding society."  
Hermione, unsure as to what he was referring to, didn't say anything.

"You know, the whole 'pick who you love or who is best for you' thing. With blood status."

Hermione caught onto what he was saying, and glanced towards the fire before looking back to Tom, who was still flipping through her book. "I suppose so."

"Think of it this way," Tom began, tracing his finger over her name on the inside cover of the book. "Imagine you fell in love with me. And I you. But Malfoy was also in love with you, and you were somewhat interested in him. We both ask for you hand in marriage. Who are you more likely to say yes to: Malfoy, a man you do not love but could offer you a stable life and a high position in wizarding society, with enough money that you would never have to work; or me, a man that you _do_ love, but a lowly orphan with almost nothing to offer you?"

Hermione thought his question was rhetorical until he looked at her, his blue eyes meeting her gray eyes that should have been brown, and searched for an answer.

She looked away from him, her sight focusing on the smoldering embers inside the fire place. "Well, of course I'd choose you," she said softly. "Of course the rational act would be to choose Malfoy, since he could – as you said – offer me more stability, but if I truly loved you, of course I'd pick you over him."

Tom was quiet for a moment before slipping his hand into hers, pulling her to lean back against the couch. He gave her one of his rare, soft smiles, lacing his fingers with hers. "I'd pick you, too."

Hermione felt her heart leap. Was he simply saying he'd choose her because he simply didn't like other people? Or could he possibly mean he'd choose her over anyone, because he could see himself truly loving her?

_This could be progress!_ Hermione ecstatically thought to herself, looking down to her left hand, interlocked with Tom's. _I have to tell Draco._

* * *

Draco was exiting the Great Hall after dinner that night, full and tired, when Hermione pulled him into an empty classroom.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," Draco muttered after Hermione had cast locking and silencing charms on the room. "You could have, I don't know, _told_ me you needed to speak to me instead of pulling me into an empty classroom against my will!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Draco, stop being such a little girl."

Draco scowled at her, recognizing the tone of her voice as one she had often used with Weasley. "Whatever. What's the point of this?" he asked, stifling a yawn as he sat on a desk.

"I think I've made some progress with Tom," Hermione said, sitting across from him.

"Okay, Hermione, I know we're supposed to be siblings and all and that we're supposed to fix this thing together, but I don't need to know what kind of _things_ you and Rid – "

"For Godric's sake, Malfoy, nothing like that!" Hermione shouted over him. Through the dark light in the room, Draco could see her face had gone slight pink.

"Oh," he said lamely. "Well, then what happened?"

"Well, I think he might have admitted he has feelings for me." Hermione explained, in depth, the conversation she had with Tom earlier that day, including Tom's example about himself, her and Malfoy and what he said after she gave him her answer. Draco was quiet for a moment before he began laughing.

Hermione, shocked, stared at him. "What?"

Draco kept laughing, clutching his stomach, almost falling off the desk as he doubled over. Hermione stared at him, her patience growing thin, as she waited for his laughter to die down. Finally, Draco caught control of himself.

"it's just so bloody like you and Riddle to admit you fancy each other through the use of some old muggle book."

Hermione glared at him, daggers in her eyes. "I do not fancy him."  
"Dumbledore said-"

"I know what Dumbledore said!" She crossed her arms across he chest. "But that couldn't have possibly been right, could it? In the original timeline, I was born more than fifty years after him. There isn't a possibly way we could be soul mates, is there?"

Draco gave Hermione a sympathetic look. He really did feel bad for her; she had spent the past seven years of her life fighting this man and everything he stands for, only to suddenly be thrown back into his childhood and being told she is his soul mate and it's up to her to save his soul.

Draco mentally chastised himself. _No more pitying Granger._

"Well, Hermione, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I don't exactly think Dumbledore is wrong." She sent daggers at him again. "Look, Granger, he's probably the only person in Hogwarts history to be as brilliant as you. Even though he turned all dark and stuff. You guys are quite a bit alike. I noticed it sixth year."

She didn't respond, but continued glaring at him. Draco sighed. "Look, sixth year I was working directly under him, Granger. And I had nearly every class with you. Your mannerisms and his are nearly exact and the two of you think at close to the same rate."

Hermione sighed, looking to her lap and then to Draco.

"I know he ruined your life and made things unsafe for you, Granger. I _know_ that. It's understandable that you'd have a hard time accepting this, but it's been a month and a half since you've known. We – well, you – still have time to keep him from becoming that man who ruined everything. Okay?"

Hermione met his gaze finally. "When did I become the coward and you become the reasonable one?"

Draco scowled at her. "I am not a coward, Granger! Come on, it's getting late, and we've got a train to catch tomorrow."

* * *

**December 25, 1938**

Tom was the only first year Slytherin to stay behind for the Christmas Holidays. He didn't mind much; he rather enjoyed the privacy. After he had... _convinced_, for lack of a better word, Lestrange and Rosier and Malfoy and Black to be his... acquaintances. He would never call them his friends. The only friend he wanted – or needed – was Hermione.

Tom silently sighed as she entered his thoughts once again. She'd been gone for nine days and he was... bored. He had grown used to Hermione always being so close by, always there to discuss classes or a book or anything, and he wasn't quite sure what to do. Tom huffed, sitting up in his bed. He hadn't expected to receive anything for Christmas – at the orphanage every year, all the orphans received a new pair of socks, so he'd grown to not expect much – and was quite shocked to find two presents sitting at the edge of his bed. He stared at the pile, slowly sitting down beside it. He'd never received a real Christmas present before.

He picked up a rather large box first, from professor Slughorn, filled with crystallized pineapple. _My favorite candy!_, the card read. _I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. - Professor H. Slughorn_

Tom found himself chuckling lightly at his Professor's attempts to place himself on his good side. He shook his head slowly as he turned to his other present, which was much smaller than the first.

_Tom_, the card read,

_Happy Christmas. I wasn't sure what to get you, but I hope this suffices._

_With love,_

_Hermione_

He carefully tore the wrapping paper off the present and found a thin, black journal, with metal protectors on the corners of it. Towards the bottom, in silver, said TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. Tom flipped through the pages of it, stopping when he reached the back cover. Hermione had written another note on the back of the last page.

_Maybe you can write me a book one day._

Tom looked down at the journal, an unfamiliar feeling rising in his stomach. He's gotten Hermione something – he hadn't told her he'd gotten her anything, of course – but he didn't expect anything back. He thought back to the necklace he had sent her – an old gold chain with a seashell on the end that he had found during one of the orphanages trips to the beach. He's found the chain close to the store line, and the shell its self he had found in the cave he was so fond of. _It was a dumb gift_, he decided, again flipping through the journal. _She's going to be disappointed with it._

Tom nearly growled at himself, standing up harshly and getting back into bed. Since when did he care about anyone other than himself?

_Since the first time you saw Hermione bloody Pope at Flourish and Blotts,_ a voice in the back of his head reminded him. Tom glared at the cold stone walls, Hermione's face swimming around his thoughts.

He didn't even know why he watched her that day, or why he had been eager to be sorted into Slytherin once she herself had been placed within the house. He never even planned on talking to her. Not until Professor Slughorn partnered them together in Potions. He cursed his Professor, blaming any and all interactions with Hermione on him. He normally didn't waste his time interacting with other people, especially not girls.

So what made Hermione any different?

Tom flipped over in his bed, staring at the ceiling. W_ell, for one, she isn't a ditz like the rest of the people I've met_, Tom thought to himself, knitting his eyebrows together. _Stop thinking about her, damnit! She'll be back in a week. Isn't that good enough for you?_

Tom sat up straight, a new thought in mind. She'll be back in a week. _You've literally wasted nine bloody days wallowing around without her, Riddle! _He glanced at his nightstand, the journal Hermione gave him laying there. He picked it up and grabbed a quill and some ink. He flipped the journal open to the first page, his hand moving quickly with the quill between the journal and his bottle of ink. The words seemed to flow out of the tip of his quill, filling the front and backs of the first one, two, three, four, five pages in the journal. He finally stopped, rereading all he had wrote. Hermione was still unaware that she belonged to him; maybe this journal would help him do that.

After securing the journal in his nightstand drawer, he pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, writing Hermione's name at the top of it.

_Hermione,_

_Thank you for the journal – I like it quite a lot. It was very thoughtful of you to personalize it for me the way you have. I await your arrival back to the castle next week._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Tom Riddle._

He scowled down at the parchment. He wasn't very good at trying to be sentimental – he didn't care enough to show sentiment of any kind. It was just something he couldn't do. Not even for her.

Shaking his head, Tom dressed and headed up to the owlery. He suspected it would be a long, lonely holiday.

* * *

**December 31, 1938**

Hermione sat at the desk in her bedroom at Pope Manor, reading over Tom's short letter one more time. Holding the letter in one hand, she reached the other up to trace the ledges in the seashell that now hung around a gold chain on her neck. As simple of a gift it was, Hermione absolutely adored it. She looked at the small box next to her, putting down the letter to pull it closer.

Upon removing the lid, she pulled out a ring – it was completely black, the top flattened into a rectangle across the length of it.

She wasn't sure why she got him a birthday gift. She didn't feel obligated to or anything. She had seen it on display in a shop while shopping with Georgia in Muggle London earlier that afternoon, and immediately thought of Tom upon seeing it.

"Are you really going to send him that?"

Hermione looked up to find Draco in her doorway, leaning against the frame. "Well, it's fitting, isn't it? He gave me one. It wouldn't hurt to give him one as well."

He gave her his infamous smirk. "This really doesn't help with your whole 'I don't have feelings for him' thing, Granger."

Hermione glared at him. "Why won't you just shut up?"

Draco's eyes widened for a second before returning back to his mask. "Whatever, Granger. Whatever you say."

Hermione sneered at him. "Get out of my room, ferret."

She smirked to herself as she heard Draco walk out of her room, muttering something along the lines of "not a bloody ferret" under his breath. She turned back to the ring, placing it in the box and tying it back up. She ripped off a small piece of parchment, scribbling a message on it and sending it off before she had time to change her mind.

_Tom,_

_You once gave one to me, and now I give one to you. Happy birthday._

_-H_


End file.
